LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

TO 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 
AND  OTHERS 


LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

TO  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 
AND   OTHERS 


EDITED   BY 

WILLIAM  KOSCOE   THAYER 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY  ALICE  M.  LONGFELLOW 

AND  WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1917 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,   1917,  BY   HOUOHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
ALL   RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  November  1917 


EDITOR'S  NOTE 

THIS  book  is  issued  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Cambridge  Historical  Society,  which,  early  in  1916, 
appointed  a  Committee,  consisting  of  Miss  Alice  M. 
Longfellow,  Miss  Mary  Lee  Ware,  and  William 
Roscoe  Thayer,  to  collect  and  edit  the  letters  of 
John  Holmes.  The  letters  as  written  by  Mr. 
Holmes  are  often  hard  to  decipher;  sometimes  the 
manuscript  has  been  torn,  and  Mr.  Holmes,  even  in 
his  best  days  of  writing,  did  not  permit  himself  to 
be  too  strictly  bound  by  laws  of  punctuation  or  of 
orthography.  In  editing,  our  purpose  has  been  to 
make  the  text  as  clear  as  possible  by  supplying  here 
and  there  omitted  words,  commas,  and  semicolons, 
and  by  correcting  obviously  unintentional  slips  in 
spelling. 

W.  R.  T. 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION,  BY  ALICE  M.  LONGFELLOW        .      .     xi 

I.  ORIGIN  AND  EARLY  LIFE 1 

II.  SETTLING  DOWN 42 

III.  "A  RIGHT  LOCAL  MAN" 64 

IV.  A  TRIP  TO  EUROPE,  1872-73       ....     89 
V.  THE  MELLOW  YEARS 125 

VI.  TOWARDS  SUNSET 182 

VII.  LAST  DAYS 231 

VIII.  CONCLUSION 284 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

JOHN  HOLMES Frontispiece 

THE  GAMBREL-ROOFED  HOUSE 4 

THE  WHIST   CLUB:  JOHN   HOLMES,  ESTES  HOWE, 
ROBERT  CARTER,  AND  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL     .    44 

DR.   CHARLES   ELIOT   WARE,   JOHN   HOLMES,  AND 
WALDO  HIGGINSON 80 

No.  5  APPIAN  WAY  IN  1917 126 

JOHN  HOLMES  AS  A  "FARMER" 212 

JOHN  HOLMES   .  .  232 


INTRODUCTION 

MR.  JOHN  HOLMES,  or  John  Holmes,  as  he  was 
always  affectionately  called,  belonged  to  an  age  of 
quietude  and  simplicity  now  long  passed  away, 
and  scarcely  understood. 

The  rule  of  his  life  was  few  needs  and  desires, 
few  friends,  and  simple  surroundings.  He  was  born 
in  1812  in  the  old  gambrel-roofed  parsonage,  the 
son  of  the  Reverend  Abiel  Holmes,  and  younger 
brother  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  He  graduated 
from  Harvard  in  1832,  and  remained  in  the  charm 
ing  old  home  with  his  mother  as  long  as  she  lived. 

He  was  betrothed  in  his  youth  to  a  young  com 
panion,  but  unfortunately  she  died  before  their 
marriage,  and  the  affection  and  devotion  of  his 
warm  and  unselfish  nature  were  bestowed  in  fullest 
measure  on  his  mother. 

He  was  over  fifty  when  she  died,  and  he  then 
moved  with  the  old  housekeeper  to  the  little  house 
on  Appian  Way,  or  A.  W.,  as  he  always  called  it. 

The  chronicles  of  this  busy  thoroughfare  gave 
him  infinite  amusement,  and  here  he  closed  his 
retired  life  in  1899. 

A  chronic  lameness  kept  him  often  confined  to 
his  room,  and,  with  his  naturally  quiet  disposition, 
prevented  his  taking  any  active  part  in  life. 

Three  short  trips  to  Europe  and  occasional  visits 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

to  his  friends  were  his  only  change  from  this  life, 
outwardly  dull  and  meagre,  but  inwardly,  and  to  his 
intimates,  rich  with  affection,  originality,  and  humor. 
"There  is  but  one  John,"  said  his  friend  James 
Russell  Lowell;  and  Judge  Hoar,  whose  friends  say 
he  seldom  indulged  in  verse-writing,  was  moved 
by  his  love  for  this  lovable  friend  to  express  these 
feelings  in  verse: — 

"There  was  a  man  sent  from  God  whose  name 
was  John." 

And  surely  I  think  we  know  him, 
And  could  guess  from  whom  he  came 
For  he  bears  his  credentials  with  him  — 
Not  in  earthquake,  wind,  and  flame, 
But  the  still  small  voice  which  ever 
Befits  the  message  Divine. 
The  servant,  who  stands  and  waits 
By  the  swiftly  hurrying  line 
Of  the  winged  host,  serves  as  well 
As  speeding  Angel  or  Man. 
And  the  quiet  may  bring  a  message 
Which  the  noisy  never  can! 
He  was  sent  to  us!  to  the  life-time 
Of  each  he  has  added  cheer. 
And  has  helped  us  join  in  saying 
"  Methinks  it  is  good  to  be  here." 

So  modest,  and  shy,  and  patient, 
So  willing  and  wise  and  true,  — 
We  are  glad  that,  when  God  sent  him, 
He  was  willing  to  send  us,  too. 
Now  whenever  you  take  the  journey 
That  leads  through  the  shadows  dim 
Please  say  to  the  One  who  sent  you  here 
That  we're  much  obliged  to  him. 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

What  more  can  be  said.  To  the  few  who  had  the 
inestimable  pleasure  and  blessing  of  his  friendship, 
words  can  add  nothing  to  the  charm  of  his  mem 
ory.  To  the  many  who  did  not  know  him,  no  words 
can  convey  any  adequate  impression  of  his  per 
sonality.  The  delightful  mingling  of  loyal  affec 
tion,  tenderness,  modesty,  sensitiveness,  quaint- 
ness,  courtesy,  overflowing  fun  and  humor,  and  an 
almost  child-like  petulance  at  times,  soon  ending 
in  a  laugh,  made  a  personality  quite  distinct,  and 
attractive  beyond  expression.  In  these  modern 
days  too  much,  I  think,  is  made  of  environment. 
Certainly  the  bare  little  upper  chamber  in  the 
modest  house  on  Appian  Way  held  more  of  sweet 
ness,  and  charm,  and  entertainment,  than  comes 
to  the  fortune  of  many  grander  houses.  Mr. 
Holmes's  mind  was  full  of  quaint  and  fantastic 
ideas  that  flashed  out  suddenly  and  spontaneously, 
too  vivid  and  impressionistic  to  be  recorded  with 
out  seeming  trivial,  but  inimitable  at  the  time, 
accompanied  with  his  flashing  eyes  and  droll  man 
ner.  As  Mr.  Howells  said,  "He  would  suddenly 
sparkle  into  some  gayety,  too  ethereal  for  remem 
brance." 

Who  can  forget  his  pathetic  revery  about  Me 
thuselah,  shrinking  more  and  more  with  old  age, 
and  finally  pitifully  whining,  "Oh,  dear!  oh/dear! 
I  wish  some  one  would  keep  my  shoe-strings  from 
blowing  in  my  eyes."  Or  the  grand  description  of 
Csesar  Augustus  returning  in  triumph  from  the 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

wars,  with  full  detail  of  captives,  slaves,  and  wild 
beasts;  and  then  the  horrible  suspicion,  as  Caesar 
rode  proudly  in  his  chariot,  that  something  was 
amiss  —  the  street  urchins  were  slyly  lalighing  and 
pointing  at  him.  Then  the  collapse  of  his  glory, 
and  his  nervous  haste  to  reach  the  Palace  Gate 
and  rush  upstairs  to  his  wife,  —  "Oh,  Augusta, 
Augusta,  is  my  helmet  on  straight?" 

One  of  the  comical  scenes  he  loved  to  depict  was 
a  shy  young  man  at  a  party,  who,  having  been 
served  with  tea  and  cake  and  finding  the  tea  too 
hot  to  drink  and  no  table  near,  seeks  vainly  to  pour 
it  into  the  saucer  to  cool,  but  cannot  on  account 
of  the  piece  of  cake  in  his  hand.  At  last  a  happy 
thought.  He  will  put  the  cake  in  his  mouth,  and 
leave  his  hands  free.  The  tea  is  successfully  poured 
and  he  is  about  to  drink,  when  it  suddenly  occurs 
to  him  that  he  still  has  the  cake  in  his  mouth,  and 
he  is  as  far  as  ever  from  relief.  John  Holmes's  look 
of  sudden  despair  and  hopelessness  when  the  young 
man  makes  this  discovery  was  something  which  no 
one  else  could  equal.  Hopeless  also  to  render  the 
look  of  the  poor  mother  whose  boy  having  had  plate 
after  plate  of  ice  cream,  still  got  more  by  the  threat, 
"If  you  don't  give  it,  I'll  tell";  and  finally,  being 
refused,  shouted  out,  "My  new  breeches  are  made 
from  the  old  window  curtains."  Stories  nothing  in 
themselves  became  dramatic  episodes  when  acted 
by  Mr.  Holmes. 

When  something  was  said  about  the  increasing 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

number  of  students  who  failed  to  complete  the 
undergraduate  course  but  were  dropped  from  class 
to  class,  Mr.  Holmes  predicted  that  a  race  of  stu 
dents  would  be  ultimately  developed  which  would 
never  get  through  college,  but  might  die  at  ninety 
on  the  very  day  before  Commencement.  In  his 
lively  imagination  a  group  of  Faculty  and  President 
were  seen  gathered  round  the  bed  of  the  aged  man, 
imploring  him  to  hold  out  a  day  longer.  "Think," 
they  said,  "what  an  honor  it  would  be  to  the  Uni 
versity  to  have  graduated  you  at  last,  and  what  a 
disappointment  should  you  expire  an  undergrad 
uate  after  all!  Rouse  yourself!  Make  one  more 
effort!  Live  until  to-morrow  and  die  a  Bachelor 
of  Arts!" 

On  one  occasion,  in  entering  a  friend's  parlor  he 
stumbled  over  a  rocking-chair,  and  then  nothing 
would  do  but  he  must  enter  the  room  half  a  dozen 
times  and  stumble  over  the  chair  each  time,  imi 
tating  the  voice  and  manner  of  different  people  he 
knew. 

My  fortunate  entrance  into  this  charming  at 
mosphere  came  about  quite  by  chance,  as  some  of 
the  best  things  of  life  so  often  happen.  Mr.  Holmes 
was  then  over  eighty,  and  losing  his  eyesight.  One 
afternoon  I  chanced  to  meet  Miss  Charlotte  Dana 
on  Brattle  Street.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "why  don't  you 
go  to  see  Mr.  John  Holmes?  He  has  sprained  his 
ankle,  and  as  he  can't  see  to  read,  he  is  very  lonely 
and  dull." 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

"I  will  go  in  now,"  I  said,  glad  of  the  opportun 
ity;  and  there  I  found  him  stretched  on  his  uncom 
fortable  couch,  with  a  cord  under  the  sole  of  his 
foot,  like  a  stirrup,  to  hold  it  in  place,  a  comica 
mixture  of  patience  and  indignation  at  adverse  fate 

I  happened  to  have  in  my  hand  a  book  for  th< 
binders,  a  sketch  of  the  Vendean  leader  durim 
the  French  Revolution.  A  most  happy  chance,  fo] 
the  French  Revolution  was  an  unending  fund  o 
interest  to  Mr.  Holmes.  We  began  to  read  at  once 
and  for  five  years,  two  afternoons  in  the  week  wer< 
devoted  to  France.  We  went  through  every  won 
written  by  Erckmann-Chatrian,  his  special  delight 
and  everything  else  about  the  Revolution  not  to< 
profound. 

Mr.  Holmes  loved  to  act  out  the  different  char 
acters,  especially  the  military  ones,  and  we  cele 
brated  the  heroes'  birthdays,  and  had  all  sorts  o 
delightful  and  foolish  fun. 

One  of  his  favorite  conceits  was  to  consider  him 
self  a  military  man,  because  he  once  paid  a  fee  o 
three  dollars  to  join  a  military  company  in  college 
the  Washington  Harvard  Guard,  and  he  alway 
received  me  standing  erect  behind  the  front  doo 
with  his  cane  at  shoulder-arms,  like  a  musket.  An< 
I  must  come  exactly  at  the  appointed  time,  not  to< 
early,  not  too  late,  for  Mr.  Holmes  was  truly,  as  h 
called  himself,  "an  old  gent  of  the  old  school,"  an< 
all  the  convenances  must  be  courteously  respected 

After  his  lunch  he  must  have  his  cigar.    Tha 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

finished,  all  the  windows  must  be  opened,  regard 
less  of  weather,  until  every  vestige  of  smoke  was 
removed.  Then  very  reluctantly,  pussy,  an  old  in 
habitant,  must  be  removed  from  the  only  com 
fortable  chair,  and  the  cushion  turned.  (Some  years 
before,  Mr.  Holmes  wrote:  "I  ought  to  tell  you  of 
the  recent  arrival  of  a  tortoise-shell  kit  of  seven 
weeks  at  this  house,  the  most  inextinguishable 
creature  you  ever  saw,  a  mere  combination  of  wool 
and  electricity,  just  as  much  at  home  in  the  world 
as  if  she  had  been  seven  hundred  years  in  it  and 
remembered  R.  Coeur  de  L.'s  leather  doublet, 
which  she  guarded  from  the  rats.")  Then  he  took  up 
his  post  downstairs,  ready  to  open  the  front  door 
with  his  own  peculiar  mingling  of  cordiality  and 
decorum. 

I  am  not  competent  to  speak  of  Mr.  Holmes's 
early  days,  but  I  am  glad  to  quote  from  the  sketch 
of  him  by  T.  W.  Higginson. 

He  describes  an  evening  party  in  Cambridge  for 
the  celebrated  Pere  Hyacinthe  and  his  wife.  "Their 
little  boy  of  ten  was  eagerly  collecting  autographs, 
and  whenever  a  guest  entered  he  asked  his  mother, 
'Est-il  celebre?'  At  last  there  entered  a  short, 
squarely  built  man,  with  white  hair,  white  mus 
tache,  and  thick  eyebrows,  —  still  black,  —  with 
erect  figure,  fine  carriage  of  the  head,  and  a  bearing 
often  described  as  military.  The  hostess  explained 
to  the  little  boy  that  this  new  guest,  though  not 
personally  famous,  was  the  brother  of  the  cele- 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

brated  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  The  newly  arrived 
guest,  being  offered  the  little  piece  of  paper,  and 
presumably  having  heard  the  consultation,  wrote 
on  it  this  brief  inscription  —  'John  Holmes,  frere 
de  mon  frere.' 

"The  statement,  however  felicitous  under  the 
circumstances,  would  not  bear  more  than  a  general 
acceptance  as  to  the  facts.  Few  brothers  were  less 
alike  in  looks,  and  in  habits.  The  elder  brother 
was  born  to  live  among  cheery  social  groups.  The 
younger  brother,  while  the  more  distinguished  and 
noticeable  in  appearance  of  the  two,  was  in  the  last 
degree  self-withdrawing  and  modest,  more  than 
content  to  be  held  by  the  world  at  arm's  length, 
yet  capable  of  the  most  devoted  and  unselfish  loy 
alty  to  the  few  intimates  he  loved. 

"He  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  and  of  the  Har 
vard  Law  School,  but  never  practised  law,  nor  did 
he  ever  attempt  any  other  profession,  and  lived 
alone  with  his  aged  mother.  Dr.  Holmes  says, 
'John  cared  for  her  in  the  most  tender  way,  and  it 
almost  broke  his  heart  to  part  with  her.  She  was  a 
daughter  to  him,  she  said,  and  he  fondly  hoped  that 
love  and  care  could  keep  her  frail  life  to  the  filling 
of  a  century.'  She  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety-three." 

Mr.  Higginson  continues:  — 

"I  do  not  suppose  there  was  ever  a  moment  in 
John  Holmes's  peaceful  existence  when  he  could 
really  have  been  said  to  envy  his  more  famous 
brother.  When  Emerson  once  said  of  him,  'John 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

Holmes  represents  humor,  while  his  elder  brother 
stands  for  wit,'  he  really  placed  the  younger  the 
higher  of  the  two.  The  most  commonplace  event, 
the  most  uninteresting  tramp  who  wandered 
through  the  little  street  was  enough  to  feed  John 
Holmes's  thoughts,  and  to  supply  his  conversation 
with  spice." 

It  is  a  sorrowful  thing  that  he  could  not  have 
finished  his  life  in  the  house  where  he  was  born;  it 
would  have  been  so  fitting  a  frame  for  him.  But 
unfortunately  that  was  not  possible.  After  Mrs. 
Holmes's  death  the  house  was  acquired  by  the 
College  and  later  was  pulled  down  to  make  way  for 
modern  college  buildings.  Mr.  Holmes  moved  with 
the  old  housekeeper  to  the  little  house  owned  by 
her  on  Appian  Way,  where  he  had  three  rooms  for 
his  own  use,  and  lived  there  surrounded  by  Miss 
Tolman's  cats  and  birds  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Holmes  wrote  for  the  Harvard  Book  an  ac 
count  of  old  Hollis  Hall  and  a  very  vivid  sketch 
of  an  old-time  Commencement.  He  abridged  this 
for  a  little  book  published  in  connection  with  the 
Hospital  Fair,  giving  an  imaginary  boy's  account 
of  the  ceremonies,  and  from  this  I  cannot  resist 
quoting  later  on. 

He  wrote  a  review  of  Paige's  History  of  Cam 
bridge  for  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  and  the  chapter 
on  Cambridge  in  the  History  of  Middlesex  County, 
and  these,  I  believe,  were  his  only  adventures  in 
print. 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

Cambridge  and  Harvard  College  were  his  chosen 
field  of  reminiscence,  although  he  had  been  to  Eu 
rope:  once  in  his  college  days,  again  in  1872,  when 
he  was  sixty  years  old,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lowell, 
and  in  1882. 

Mr.  Lowell  recalls  that,  when  he  himself  was 
again  in  Paris,  the  little  woman  in  the  kiosque 
where  he  bought  his  newspapers,  at  once  asked 
after  Mr.  Holmes,  as  did  everybody  else.  She  had 
a  tame  sparrow  he  used  to  bring  cake  to.  "Ah," 
she  exclaimed,  "qu'il  etait  bon!  Tout  bon!  Ce 
n'est  que  les  bons  qui  aiment  les  animaux!  Et  ce 
monsieur,  comment  il  les  aimait!" 

This  was  surely  true,  for  the  only  book  I  read 
to  him  that  he  did  not  like  was  Stevenson's  Travels 
with  a  Donkey.  His  indignation  at  the  constant 
beating  and  prodding  of  poor  Modestine  over 
flowed  at  every  page.  ^ 

He  was  too  modest  and  self-effacing  to  care  to 
appear  much  in  print,  although  he  was  fond  of  old 
reminiscences  in  private  talk;  and  this  brings  me 
back  to  his  account  of  the  old-time  Commence 
ment,  with  its  tents  and  booths  and  all  sorts  of  un- 
academic  diversions  and  gayeties. 

"I  don't  suppose  there's  anything  quite  equal 
to  Commencement.  First,  you  know,  the  Sunday 
before,  after  the  sermon  in  the  afternoon,  the  min 
ister  gives  notice  to  carry  home  the  psalm-books 
and  cushions  to  such  as  have  'em,  and  most  every- 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

body  takes  something  in  their  hands,  and  that  kind 
of  begins  Commencement,  though  it  is  Sunday;  and 
I  think  the  old  folks  are  about  as  much  pleased 
as  the  young  ones,  though  they  don't  show  it  so 
much.  Then  Monday  old  Leonard  Hunnewell 
marks  out  the  places  for  the  tents,  just  as  solemn 
as  if  they  was  so  many  graves,  and  the  boys  always 
make  it  out  there's  agoing  to  be  more  tents  than 
there  ever  was  before.  Then  Tuesday  afternoon 
the  joists  and  boards  and  old  sails  come,  and  they 
begin  to  build  the  tents,  and  they  keep  on  workin' 
at  'em  in  the  night.  Then  when  it  comes  mornin' 
there's  the  tents,  the  most  of  'em  on  the  Common, 
right  in  front  of  the  colleges,  and  then  there's  one 
or  two  big  ones  out  in  the  direction  of  the  Episcopal 
Church,  and  one  up  at  the  corner  on  West  Cam 
bridge  road.  The  lowest  down  tents  is  about  op 
posite  Massachusetts,  and  the  furthest  up  comes 
pretty  near  the  little  three-cornered  Common. 
Then  from  the  tents  down  to  the  Court  House 
there's  stands  just  outside  the  sidewalk,  with 
candy  and  toys  and  every  sort  of  thing.  The  chil 
dren  's  thick  enough  down  there.  I  've  seen  some 
thing  there  they  called  ice  cream,  come  from  Bos 
ton,  I  suppose.  It  was  dreadful  dear. 

"Then  the  first  thing  you  know  there's  the  Light- 
horse  comes  with  their  trumpets.  They  come  with 
the  Governor  and  then,  about  nine  o'clock  the 
great  procession  comes  with  music.  The  women  has 
been  crowdin'  in  to  get  seats  in  the  meetin'us 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

beforehand,  and  when  the  procession  comes  into 
the  meetin'us  its  just  as  full  as  it  can  hold,  every 
corner  of  it.  Then  down  in  the  market  place  it's 
all  full  of  carts  with  watermelons  and  peaches,  and 
lots  er  folks  coming  and  going.  Then  at  Capt. 
Stimson's  house,  where  the  First  Parish  Church 
stands  now,  they  let  rooms  for  the  shows,  and  I 
saw  Punch  and  Judy  once,  and  the  fat  baby  and  a 
cage  of  reptiles.  They  keep  it  up  all  day  on  the 
Common  and  pretty  well  all  night,  and  all  the  next 
day  and  night.  Oh,  there  can't  be  anything  like  it 
anywhere.  .  . 

For  the  graduates  inside  the  College  grounds 
there  was  always  a  bountiful  supply  of  plum  cake, 
which  was  not  approved  by  the  Faculty,  and  an 
order  to  suppress  it  nearly  caused  a  rebellion. 

"The  tents,"  said  Mr.  Holmes,  "were  open  on 
the  western  side  and,  having  opposite  them  various 
stands  and  shows,  made  a  street,  which  by  night 
fall  was  paved  with  watermelon-rinds,  peach- 
stones,  and  various  debris,  on  a  ground  of  straw  — 
all  flavored  with  rum  and  tobacco  smoke.  The 
atmosphere  thus  created  in  the  interests  of  litera 
ture  was  to  the  true  devotee  of  Commencement 
what  the  flavor  of  the  holocaust  was  to  the  pious 
ancient." 

He  also  records  the  wonders  of  Harvard  Square. 
Among  them,  "The  Cpllege  House,  which  fifty 
years  ago  was  occupied  by  the  Law  professor.  The 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

number  of  pupils  was  small,  and  we  liave  seen 
most,  or  all  of  them,  perched  together  on  the  fence 
in  front. 

"In  Harvard  Square  also  stood  the  old  Court 
House,  where  the  judges  of  the  Superior  Court  held 
their  sessions,  escorted  by  the  sheriff  and  attend 
ants  with  great  commotion. 

"On  this  great  day,"  says  Mr.  Holmes,  "the 
villagers  quit  their  gray,  unpainted  houses,  as  if 
they  were  in  flames.  Children  get  the  start.  Aus 
tere  men  who  combat  the  world  and  its  pleasures 
go  circuitously  and  drop  casually  and  unconsciously 
into  the  throng.  Suitors  and  sued,  amateurs  of  liti 
gation  who  have  had  their  losses,  the  many  who 
dote  on  the  dread  forms  of  the  criminal  process, 
poor  debtors  who  know  every  spider  in  the  old  jail 
—  all  these  contribute  to  the  variety  of  the  crowd. 
The  'scholars,'  to  use  the  popular  term  some  fifty 
years  since,  are  hurrying  to  the  scene  of  action,  the 
banyan,  such  as  Prescott  wore  at  Bunker  Hill, 
floating  wide  behind  them  as  they  run. 

"Bradish  stands  at  the  door  of  his  tavern,  grave 
and  portly.  His  cue  newly  bound  with  black  rib 
bon  hangs  perpendicular  like  a  pendulum  stopped 
by  an  earthquake.  The  lawyers  were  then,  as  they 
are  now,  the  gladiators  of  a  better  civilization. 

"In  1815  the  courts  were  removed  to  East  Cam 
bridge,  and  the  Court  House  ceased  from  its  former 
functions. 

"Lyceum  lectures  and  debates  were  begun  here 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

about  1830,  and  held  their  ground  with  very  con 
siderable  tenacity.  The  public  finally  became  sati 
ated  and  dropped  off  in  something  like  a  comatose 
state.  The  great  variety  of  subjects  and  the  dis 
tractions  of  a  social  surrounding  left,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  a  rather  nebulous  result  on  the  general  mind. 

"Cambridge  had  been  for  many  years  remark 
ably  exempt  from  fires.  From  near  1812  we  recall, 
from  hearsay  or  observation,  no  serious  fire.  The 
town,  therefore,  was  obliged  to  borrow  excitement 
on  this  score  from  neighboring  calamities,  and  to 
judge  by  the  demonstrations,  the  sufferers  them 
selves  could  hardly  have  felt  the  situation  more 
intensely  than  our  citizens.  The  parish  bell  was 
immediately  set  going,  nor  ceased  while  any  faint 
gleam  of  light  appeared  on  the  horizon.  Nearly  all 
the  male  inhabitants  cried  'fire!'  incessantly  for 
some  half-hour.  The  'scholars'  lent  their  lungs  to 
assist  the  town.  The  engine  rushed  madly,  if  heav 
ily,  out  into  space,  and  returned.  One  got  to  feel 
as  if  this  were  a  beneficial  operation.  The  alarm 
bell  actually  suggested  security.  When  it  rang  out 
with  the  greatest  vigor,  and  for  the  longest  time, 
the  householder  knew  that  the  fire  was  very  dis 
tant,  and  that  our  conscientious  citizens  could  not 
relax  their  efforts  while  the  flames  appeared  or  were 
reflected  on  the  sky. 

"But  in  October,  1839,  a  fire  actually  occurred 
within  our  own  precincts,  which  consumed  three 
houses  and  a  barn,  and,  as  usual,  threatened  much 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

more  destruction.  At  the  beginning  of  the  follow 
ing  winter,  a  suspicion  arose  that  incendiaries  were 
preparing  to  repeat,  on  a  comprehensive  scale,  the 
calamity  of  October. 

"We  can  recollect  no  cause  assigned  for  the  new 
alarm,  and  possibly  the  imagination  worked  with 
more  effect,  uncontrolled  by  spoken  evidence. 

"It  was  soon  found  that  a  citizens'  patrol  was 
necessary  to  protect  the  town.  It  was  arranged, 
and  fixed  its  headquarters  in  the  old  Court  House. 
We  recollect  only  a  tendency  to  hilarity  that  per 
vaded  the  organization,  at  variance  with  the  immi 
nent  hazard  which  they  labored  to  avert.  Walking, 
watching,  and  friendly  converse  occupied  the  mid 
night  hours.  Consciousness  of  merit  was  the  poor 
and  honorable  reward  of  our  exertions.  No  refresh 
ments  were  furnished  to  dilute  or  vitiate  this  noble 
sensation. 

"We  infer  the  greatness  of  the  impending  danger 
from  the  great  and  general  effort  made  to  avert  it. 
And  it  is  a  memorable  fact  that  so  extensive  and 
desperate  a  confederation  of  incendiaries  should 
have  been  entirely  crushed  by  our  administration. 
Perfect  incombustibility  seemed  to  prevail  during 
this  period,  and  in  a  community  too  where  one  man 
in  twenty  was  a  probable  Guy  Faux. 

"There  is  always  one  drawback  on  precaution — 
that  it  cuts  off  the  very  evidence  that  should  jus 
tify  it.  The  patrol  of  1840  was  subject  to  this  in 
convenience.  Only  one  arrest  was  made.  It  was 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

of  a  man  who  at  a  very  early  hour  of  the  morning 
was  detected  carrying  incendiary  material  toward 
the  college.  He  was  seized,  with  his  lantern,  and 
his  various  pyrotechnics  carried  to  the  Court  House 
and  subjected  to  severe  examination.  He  proved 
to  be  a  professional  incendiary,  i.e.,  a  fire-maker  in 
the  college.  His  control,  though  in  a  measure  pro 
forma,  gave  an  aspect  of  efficiency  to  the  patrol  and 
added  to  its  amount  of  strength.  The  dullest  intel 
lect  perceived  what  might  have  occurred,  had  the 
prosecuted  been  one  of  the  real  confederates,  and 
had  no  patrol  existed  to  arrest  his  deadly  career. 

"No  monument  or  inscription  commemorates 
the  services  of  that  time,  not  even  a  bronze  extin 
guisher  of  minute  size.  Among  the  members  of  the 
patrol  rheumatism,  coughs,  and  catarrh  may  have 
done  their  work,  but  no  voice  has  proclaimed  the 
fact.  Wide-awake  beneficence  disdains  to  stir  sleep 
ing  gratitude,  but  any  member  of  the  patrol  may 
proudly  say,  pointing  to  the  unconsumed  town, 
'Circumspice.9" 

As  I  have  said,  Mr.  Howells  persuaded  Mr. 
Holmes  to  write  a  review  of  Paige's  History  of 
Cambridge,  which  was  published  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly.  This  was  evidently  a  congenial  task, 
as  the  opening  shows.  "If  we  New  Englanders 
admire  ourselves  in  a  representative  way  for  the 
slow  and  painful  displacement  of  nature,  for  our 
cities,  towns,  inclosures,  and  all  that  belongs  to  our 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

rectilinear  life,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  man  who 
by  one  touch  of  his  art,  sweeps  away  the  whole 
incumbrance  in  a  moment  —  who,  in  our  Cam 
bridge  of  today  makes  the  pine  to  soar  again  in 
the  Market  Place,  the  dandelion  to  pave  the  dusty 
Main  Street  with  gold,  the  wolf  to  utter  his  hungry 
howl,  where  now  is  the  almshouse,  the  wild  pigeon 
to  coo  love  and  peace  at  the  Divinity  School,  and  the 
possum  to  play  his  innocent  tricks  at  the  City  Hall? 

"The  antiquarian  does  all  this  and  without  cost 
or  damage  but  to  himself.  He  finds  us  blinking  at 
an  uncertain  future  or  weary  with  a  commonplace 
present,  and  promises  to  show  us  the  past,  where 
we  may  walk  at  leisure." 

Mr.  Holmes  then  takes  up  the  first  settlement  of 
Newtowne,  "which  was  designed  for  the  citadel  of 
the  new  colony,  perhaps  for  its  capital. 

"The  site  was  selected  as  a  fit  place  for  a  forti 
fied  town  in  1630,  and  the  fortifications  which  were 
a  'pallysadoe'  —  with  such  unsparing  force  did  our 
ancestors  spell  the  word  —  and  ditch,  were  appar 
ently  completed  in  1632.  If  the  founding  of  Rome 
should  occur  to  the  reader,  he  need  not  repel  it  too 
eagerly  as  an  exaggeration.  It  is  probable  that  no 
Remus  could  have  slighted  our  pallysadoe.  If  he 
had,  our  Romulus  would  have  given  him  half  a  day 
in  the  stocks,  or  a  fine  of  five  shillings." 

In  a  sketch  of  Mr.  Craigie,  Mr.  Holmes  gives  a 
glimpse  of  Cambridge  in  later  days.  "Just  now, 
when  the  old  memories  of  Christ  Church  are  being 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

awakened,  it  is  not  amiss  to  recall  one  of  those  who 
take  their  final  rest  beneath  its  shadow.  In  my 
early  boyhood  I  occasionally  heard  the  name  of 
Andrew  Craigie,  but  never  explored  so  far  as  to 
become  acquainted  with  his  residence,  which  was 
the  present  Longfellow  House.  I  propose  no  more 
than  to  give  the  facts  that  casually  reached  me 
concerning  him,  as  I  remember  them  —  a  legend 
ary  rather  than  a  historical  notice.  I  think  that 
he  was  spoken  of  as  having  been  a  surgeon  in  the 
Continental  army,  and  that  after  the  war  was 
closed,  he  had  purchased  government  securities, 
which  rose  rapidly  in  value  after  the  new  constitu 
tion  was  established.  He  became  rich  enough  to 
purchase  the  confiscated  estate  of  one  of  the  Vas 
sals,  and  was  able  to  continue  the  handsome  style 
of  living  of  his  predecessors.  He  married,  when 
quite  old,  or  elderly,  the  beautiful  Betsey  Shaw, 
but  the  many  years  of  valuable  experience  which 
he  contributed  to  the  common  stock  do  not  seem 
to  have  added  to  the  general  fund  of  matrimonial 
happiness. ' 

"Well  would  it  have  been  for  him  if  his  friends 
could  have  said  to  him,  'Thou  hast  no  speculation 
in  thine  eyes.'  But  he  had,  and  a  great  deal  of  it. 
His  plan  was  to  develop  Lechmere's  Point,  called 
in  my  younger  days,  'The  Pint,'  and  bring  into  the 
market  the  land  he  had  secured  there.  The  new 
road  to  'The  Colleges,'  now  Cambridge  Street,  the 
bridge  to  Boston,  still  called  Craigie's  Bridge,  the 


INTRODUCTION  xxix 

removal  to  the  'Pint'  of  the  Court  House  and  Jail, 
were  all  parts  of  this  plan. 

"The  embargo  in  1807  covered  Boston  and  its 
dependencies  like  an  extinguisher.  But  apart  from 
that,  Mr.  Craigie's  plans  and  those  of  his  contem 
porary  schemers  —  the  making  Cambridgeport  a 
great  emporium  of  trade,  the  Concord  turnpike, 
etc.  —  were,  even  if  rational  in  their  conception, 
premature  by  some  forty  years.  I  remember  in  my 
own  boyhood  the  scanty  population  of  the  lower 
'Port'  outside  of  the  main  street,  with  the  brick 
blocks  planted  here  and  there  in  the  solitude,  like 
seed  for  new  settlements.  Concord  turnpike  and 
Craigie's  road  also,  each  offered  a  retreat  to  which 
the  austere  recluse,  shunning  the  face  of  man,  might 
retire  with  no  fear  of  intrusion.  The  toll  which  was 
to  repay  the  building  was  found  represented  by 
the  funeral  knell  of  departed  funds. 

"It  is  now  that  we  come  naturally  to  Mr. 
Craigie  as  a  debtor,  the  legendary  character  in 
which  we  have  mostly  heard  of  him.  Overwhelmed 
with  judgments,  the  sly  capias  in  the  pocket  of  the 
constable  waiting  for  him,  he  remembered  that 
every  man's  house  is  his  castle,  and  retired  to  this 
fortress  allowed  him  by  law.  Inside  his  house  he 
was  safe  from  arrest.  Whether  he  could  venture 
outside  upon  his  own  premises,  or  was  confined  to 
his  four  walls,  we  cannot  learn.  As  it  can  do  him 
no  harm,  and  is  more  picturesque,  I  prefer  the  first 
supposition. 


xxx  INTRODUCTION 

"It  is  a  fine  bit  of  mediaevalism  that  we  Old 
Cambridge  folk  have,  and  we  ought  to  be  proud  of 
it.  Here  is  a  man  with  nothing  against  him  but  a 
large  pecuniary  balance,  liable  to  capture,  falling 
back  on  his  'Castle,'  to  use  the  term  contained  in 
the  legal  apothegm.  The  towers,  walls,  portcullis, 
barbican,  appear  at  once  before  us.  But  to  quit 
the  fanciful  —  Mr.  Craigie  had  every  right  in  the 
world,  except  to  go  out  of  his  own  house.  To  that 
act  a  quasi  penalty  was  attached.  Does  it  not  give 
a  new  interest  to  the  Longfellow  House,  that  a  gen 
uine  debtor  of  the  old  school  has  looked  with  long 
ing  eyes  on  the  free  and  solvent  Charles  carrying 
his  punctual  dues  to  ocean,  and  on  the  fair  Brighton 
hills  where  the  only  capias  is  that  awaiting  the 
cows  at  night?  Did  he  ever  venture  forth  at  eve 
ning,  seeing  a  constable  and  capias  in  every  bush? 
We  accept  the  question  readily,  and  wish  that  we 
could  answer  it,  but  tradition  fails  here. 

"But  if  law  shut  Mr.  Craigie  up  on  week  days, 
religion  came  to  set  him  free  on  Sunday.  On  that 
day  he  was  free  to  go  abroad,  and  I  presume  used 
his  liberty  to  attend  at  Christ  Church,  then  open 
for  worship.  How  long  this  state  of  duress  lasted, 
whether  to  his  death  or  not,  I  cannot  say. 

"  Somewhere  about  the  year  1820,  going  over  one 
Saturday  afternoon  to  play  with  a  boy  at  a  house 
standing  on  or  near  the  site  of  the  present  Law 
School,  I  saw  a  movement  at  the  door  of  the  church. 
Some  half-dozen  people  were  in  motion.  I  do  not 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

remember  whether  the  bell  was  tolled.  This  was 
the  scant,  lonely  funeral  of  Mr.  Andrew  Craigie. 

"These  notes  and  reminiscences  are  addressed, 
aside,  to  only  the  few  experts  or  esoterics  in  Cam 
bridge  antiquities  —  people  who,  if  asked  to  an 
swer  the  following  questions,  would  answer  readily 
and  perhaps  with  some  resentment  at  the  doubt  of 
their  knowledge  implied  by  the  inquiry. 

"Where  was  the  old  Court  House?  The  old  Jail? 
The  Market  House?  Where  was  the  College  wood- 
yard?  Where  were  the  old  hay-scales?  Where  was 
the  window  from  which  little  Joe  Hill  saw  Lord 
Percy's  reinforcement  pass  by?  Where  was  the 
little  brook  that  ran  over  gravel  toward  the  Charles 
and,  like  the  two  princes,  was  stifled  in  its  bed?" 

Mr.  Howells  says,  "Lowell  had  often  talked  to 
me  about  John  Holmes,  celebrating  his  peculiar 
humor  with  that  affection  which  was  not  always 
so  discriminating,  so  that  Holmes  was  one  of  the 
first  Cambridge  men  I  knew.  He  was  then  living 
in  the  charming  old  colonial  house  where  he  and 
his  brother  were  born. 

"The  genius  loci  was  limping  about  the  pleasant 
mansion  with  the  rheumatism  which  expressed  it 
self  to  his  friends  in  a  resolute  smile  —  a  short, 
stout  figure,  helped  out  with  a  cane,  and  a  grizzled 
head  with  features  formed  to  win  the  heart  rather 
than  the  eye  of  the  beholder. 

"He  held  his  native  town  in  an  idolatry  which 
was  not  blind,  but  which  was  none  the  less  devoted 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

because  he  was  aware  of  her  droll  points,  and  her 
weak  points.  I  was  not  her  son,  but  he  felt  that 
this  was  my  misfortune  more  than  my  fault,  and 
he  seemed  more  and  more  to  forgive  it.  In  the  pro 
cess  of  time  he  came  so  far  to  trust  his  experience 
of  me  that  he  formed  the  habit  of  giving  me  an  an 
nual  supper.  This  was  after  he  moved  to  Appian 
Way.  Some  days  before  this  event  he  would  appear 
in  my  study,  and  with  divers  delicate  and  tenta 
tive  approaches  would  say  he  should  like  to  ask  my 
family  to  an  oyster  supper  with  him. 

"'But  you  know,  I  have  n't  a  house  of  my  own 
to  ask  you  to,  and  I  should  like  to  give  you  the 
supper  here.9 

"When  I  had  agreed  to  this  suggestion  and  the 
day  was  fixed  —  'Well  then,'  he  said,  'I  will  send 
up  a  few  oysters.' 

"On  the  day  appointed  the  fishman  would  come 
with  several  gallons  of  oysters,  and  in  the  evening 
the  giver  of  the  feast  would  appear  with  a  lank  oil 
cloth  bag,  sagged  by  some  bottles  of  wine.  There 
was  always  a  bottle  of  red  wine  and  sometimes  a 
bottle  of  champagne,  and  he  had  taken  the  precau 
tion  to  send  some  crackers  beforehand,  so  that  the 
supper  should  be  as  entirely  of  his  own  giving  as 
possible.  He  was  forced  to  let  us  do  the  cooking 
and  to  supply  the  cold  slaw,  and  perhaps  he  indem 
nified  himself  for  putting  us  to  these  charges  by 
the  vast  superfluity  of  his  oysters,  with  which  we 
remained  inundated  for  days. 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

"  He  did  not  care  to  eat  many  himself  but  seemed 
content  to  fancy  giving  us  a  pleasure." 

Mr.  Holmes's  chief  diversion  was  playing  whist 
with  his  friends  James  Russell  Lowell,  Mr.  Estes 
Howe,  Mr.  Robert  Carter.  He  never  could  see  the 
charm  of  having  more  than  a  small  inner  circle. 
His  natural  love  of  seclusion  was  increased  by  a 
chronic  lameness  which  hampered  him  at  times  all 
through  his  life.  He  diversified  the  monotony  of 
his  quiet  existence  by  little  visits  during  the  sum 
mer  —  only  a  few  days  at  a  time  —  to  Mr.  Charles 
Storey  in  Brookline,  Mr.  Waldo  Higginson  at 
Cohasset,  and  Dr.  Ware  at  West  Rindge.  These 
brief  excursions  were  treated  with  great  ceremony, 
like  a  foreign  journey,  and  the  return  to  the  quiet 
of  Appian  Way  was  most  humorously  commented 
on. 

In  refusing  an  invitation  to  Mr.  Storey's  in 
Brookline  on  account  of  the  pain  and  uneasiness  in 
the  knee,  he  says,  — 

"Tell  the  girls,  as  they  naturally  like  gayety,  that 
I  would  have  entertained  them  with  valuable  infor 
mation  more  than  sixty  years  old,  and  particularly 
would  have  given  them,  had  they  asked  me,  valu 
able  genealogies  of  the  early  settlers  —  and  we  all 
know  that  nothing  is  more  entertaining  to  young 
people  than  genealogy. 

"I  might  possibly,  if  asked,  have  sung  to  them 
some  simple  compositions  of  Cotton  Mather  and 
other  early  poets  of  the  Puritan  time.  I  never  sing 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

unless  asked  to,  and  being  never  asked  to,  I  never 
sing." 

But  if  Mr.  Holmes  never  sang,  he  loved  to  play 
simple  airs,  and  especially  hymn  tunes,  on  his 
piano,  all  the  more  as  his  eyesight  failed. 

Unquestionably,  in  spite  of  his  genial  nature, 
there  were  hours  of  loneliness  and  depression. 
After  a  "monstrous,  incredible"  hot  day  in  June, 
and  the  heat  of  Appian  Way  is  truly  "monstrous," 
he  writes,  "  I  am  today  little  better  than  a  resid 
uary  legatee  to  myself  as  I  was  before  this  heat." 

And  to  his  friend  Charles  Storey  he  writes,  beg 
ging  him  to  come  to  see  him,  — 

"I  have  laboriously  kept  up  the  illusion  of  em 
ployment,  and  I  won't  say  but  that  with  a  little 
philosophic  reflection  I  have  made  out  a  fair  sched 
ule  of  circumstances.  I  know  it  is  a  great  thing  to 
be  well  —  to  be  able  to  take  my  modest  walks,  etc., 
but  beyond  a  pretty  sober  contentment  I  can't 
say  much  and  that  does  n't  prompt  one  to  call 
eagerly  on  his  friends  to  share  the  sunshine  with 
him. 

"If  you  will  call  on  Saturday  I  shall  hope  to 
have  a  happy  day  in  place  of  a  moderately  con 
tented  one,  for  between  us  both  I  am  sure  we 
should  get  up  a  pleasant  high-low-rity.  I  meant  to 
say  hilarity. 

"We  shall,  as  you  say,  have  our  hands  full  to 
put  the  world  to  rights  after  so  long  an  interval. 

"  I  've  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  the  Soudan 


INTRODUCTION  xxxv 

and  the  Russians  and  what  not,  and  have  felt  heav 
ily  the  want  of  my  colleague. 

"I  should  n't  mind  to  have  you,  if  you  will,  sit 
in  committee  of  one  on  those  South  American 
rowdies,  on  Cleveland's  administration  since  our 
last  session,  and  on  'Things  in  General,'  which 
without  binding  you  to  any  particular  course  of 
inquiry  will  stimulate  your  ambition  to  be  well  up 
on  everything. 

"You  know  I  have  been  agricultural  on  the  scale 
of  an  inch  to  a  mile,  and  won't  you  and  I  have  a 
right-down  farming  session  when  we  foregather. 

"By  the  way  I  wonder  what  the  price  of  good 
hard  wood  is  now  at  centres  like  Fitchburg. 

"As  agri(and  horticulturist  I  was  pleased  with 
the  late  snow-fall.  The  something,  you  know,  that 
they  say  is  fertilizing  in  snow  (a  nitrate  or  some 
thing),  call  it  nitrate  of  potash,  will  be  good  for 
your  early  vegetables. 

"  I  ought  to  report  to  you  that  the  crop  of  hand- 
organs  is  very  plentiful  this  spring,  and  quality  on 
the  whole  improved." 

After  another  short  visit  he  writes  Mr.  Storey, 
"Everything  has  been  pretty  quiet  here  since  you 
left.  No  banditti  seen  this  side  of  the  Cambridge 
hills. 

"I  found  Cambridge  just  where  I  left  it,  running 
over  with  learning  of  all  kinds  and  facing  the 
weather  with  a  placid  countenance.  Winter  just 
now  is  grimly  retreating  with  his  face  to  the  foe  — 


xxxvi  INTRODUCTION 

his  icicle  beard  rapidly  diminishing.  He  seems  to 
say  to  himself  *  I  've  given  it  to  'em  this  time.'  I 
hope  that  you  are  well  and  having  a  pleasant  time, 
the  dull  weather  notwithstanding. 

"What  a  blizzard  we  are  having  today!  The 
big  elm  opposite  my  window  stretches  his  brawny 
arms  out  to  our  old  friend  Boreas  and  bids  him 
come  on,  and  they  are  having  it  out  in  good  style. 

"Cambridge  Common  is  as  wild  as  a  Tartar 
steppe  today,  and  a  great  deal  more  convenient 
for  the  adventurer  to  try  his  luck  on. 

"Some  old  people  here  are  a  little  apprehensive 
the  Russians  may  work  round  this  way  from  Af 
ghanistan,  but  I  tell  them  it  is  impossible. 

"As  evening  closes  in,  I  recall  the  cheerful  board, 
the  smoke,  the  preparations  for  deep  debate.  Well, 
we  did  n't  neglect  our  opportunities.  We  settled 
matters  up  well.  As  a  consequence  my  mind  has 
been  at  ease.  I  have  hardly  thought  of  the  Czar, 
and  not  once  of  the  Soudan  or  of  Bismarck." 

In  another  letter  to  Mr.  Storey  he  says,  — 

"  It  has  been  rather  a  heavy  time,  precious  little 
exhilaration  and  a  general  slowness. 

"Miss  Mary  Ware  wished  me  to  go  up  to  Doctor 
Goodale's  room  at  the  Museum  and  urged  the  ele 
vator  for  me  on  the  score  of  my  age,  and  I  com 
plied  and  took  possession  of  a  chair  placed  on  a 
moderate  sized  ascending  surface.  Then  an  enclo 
sure  of  iron  was  developed,  and  some  of  the  small 
boys  remarked  'Behind  the  bars,'  thus  giving  a 


INTRODUCTION  xxxvii 

criminal  aspect  to  my  transient  confinement.  But 
the  man  hauled  vigorously  and  I  vanished  with 
just  enough  of  a  halo  of  guilt  to  please  the  innocent 
spectator. 

"Yesterday  was  the  annual  fete  at  the  Cam 
bridge  Casino  (established  two  years)  and  I  thought 
I  would  look  in  upon  them  at  evening  a  moment 
at  the  dance,  and  moralize  over  the  manner  in 
which  one  may  change  his  relation  to  that  amuse 
ment,  and  retire  as  after  a  draught  of  hop  beer. 

"Being  a  subscriber,  I  took  a  schoolgirl  daughter 
of  my  opposite  neighbor  and  went,  after  the  supper 
which,  secundum  program,  was  to  appear  at  half- 
past  six. 

"The  table  was  not  yet  cleared  of  the  debris,  and 
by  tipping  a  waiter  I  procured  a  ration  for  my 
guest  (also  for  self)  and  then  threw  my  whole  weight 
on  society,  telling  my  female  comrade  that  she 
might  amuse  herself  with  her  cotemporaries.  I 
found  some  acquaintances  who  had  been  sometime 
out  of  swaddling  clothes,  and  to  my  great  surprise 
passed  a  pleasant  evening. 

"The  Casino  is  on  the  lower  road  to  Mt.  Auburn, 
close  to  the  river.  We  were  in  the  Boat  House 
where  the  dance  came  off  after  the  tables  were 
cleared;  but  there  was  an  outside  with  chairs,  close 
to  the  water,  whence  we  could  look  on  and  across 
the  river,  not  only  at  the  long  row  of  lights  very 
prettily  seen  over  the  marsh,  but  also  at  a  sedate 
display  of  mild  fireworks  on  the  opposite  bank 


xxxviii  INTRODUCTION 

which  was  quite  pretty.  When  my  comrade  had  to 
return  for  a  lesson  of  some  sort,  to  be  learned,  I 
saw  her  home,  and  then,  like  a  venerable  pleasure- 
seeking  Ulysses,  I  returned  to  the  gardens  of 
Calypso.  I  looked  knowingly  and  superiorly  on 
at  the  dance,  as  if  to  say  'the  art  is  not  what  it  was 
in  my  time,'  and  several  times  actually  detected 
myself  in  the  act  of  keeping  tune  with  my  foot  to 
the  music.  I  think  if  the  choice  had  been  immediate 
execution,  or  to  tread  a  measure,  that  I  might 
possibly  have  danced  —  but  under  the  most 
stringent  protest,  you  understand.  It  was  like  a 
man's  brushing  against  a  newly  painted  house  — 
I  brought  off  a  little  of  the  gay  coloring  and  found 
myself  somewhat  improved  in  spirits." 

After  one  of  his  short  visits,  he  writes  to  Charles 
Storey,  — 

"I  found  my  native  place  in  excellent  posture 
to  receive  a  (very  slightly)  wearied  philosopher. 
There  was  no  concourse  in  her  streets,  no  frivolous 
social  explosion  on  the  Common  to  disturb  my 
sober  approach  to  home.  No  stentorian  cry  of 
Blueberries  or  Bananies,  no  melancholy  chant  of 
O'Rags  was  heard  in  A.  W.  The  houses  had  mostly 
their  eyes  closed  in  their  summer  sleep.  The  most 
retiring  of  men  might  have  enjoyed  the  entire 
unobservedness  with  which  I  entered  my  domicile, 
and  the  solitude  after  arrival. 

"Not  so  my  arrival  from  West  Rindge  on  Friday 
at  about  2  P.M.  After  struggling  with  my  plethoric 


INTRODUCTION  xxxix 

valise  from  the  quite  subterranean  track  at  Por 
ter's  or  rather  Cambridge  Station,  I  emerged  on 
the  platform  to  meet  at  once  our  huge  expressman 
of  North  Cambridge,  Hayes,  some  times  called  the 
Infant,  some  six  feet  four  in  length  and  not  lightly 
built.  He  extended  both  hands  in  welcome  and 
cordially  invited  me  to  ascend  his  express  standing 
at  the  door.  I  sounded  him  on  the  score  of  remun 
eration  (as  the  conveyance  was  professional)  but 
found  that  it  was  hospitality,  pure  and  simple,  and 
so  was  toted  to  my  own  door.  I  suppose  that  tech 
nically  I  was  'express  matter,'  but  that  did  n't  dis 
turb  my  philosophy. 

"It  had  in  a  certain  degree  the  effect  of  a  public 
testimonial,  to  be  thus  received  at  the  very  portal 
of  the  station.  All  I  can  think  of,  is  my  year's 
service  in  behalf  of  my  country  in  the  Harvard 
Washington  Corps.  If  the  attention  was  in  recog 
nition  of  that,  it  was  very  prettily  and  delicately 
done,  for  as  an  ex-soldier  I  was  carrying  'baggage,' 
and  to  send  a  baggage  wagon  to  meet  me  on  my 
march  and  relieve  me  was  as  neat  a  reminder  of 
my  own  past  services  and  fatigues  as  could  well  be 
devised.  (I  would  n't  have  a  hint  of  this  pass  your 
lips.  A  mistake  on  such  a  point  would  be  attrib 
uted  to  the  most  absurd  vanity.) 

"Yes!  If  the  authorities  of  my  native  town 
really  devised  this  attention  it  does  them  credit. 
As  I  was  no  more  than  private,  a  barouche  and 
four  or  anything  of  that  sort  would  have  been 


xl  INTRODUCTION 

embarrassing;  but  a  baggage  wagon!  It  was  a 
very  neat  idea  (always  if  it  were  a  public  atten 
tion)." 

To  Mr.  Storey,  after  a  trip  to  the  seashore:  — 

"I  don't  care  much  for  change  nowadays,  but  I 
went  with  our  folks  of  the  house  to  Nantasket, 
and  have  swaggered  about  it  very  considerably  as 
a  bit  of  foreign  travel,  but  our  Cambridge  folks 
get  so  rusty  with  vacation  solitude, — or  perhaps 
I  should  say  so  green,  —  that  you  can  stuff  them 
with  anything  almost. 

"They  get  in  a  manner  childish  and  from  disuse 
their  articulation  is  impaired.  When  I  began  about 
Nantasket,  the  word  tickled  them  immensely,  and 
they  kept  practising  on  it  to  themselves,  as  our 
friend  (what's  his  name)  does  'the  Salwannas 
where  the  war  is.' 

"I  should  think  Old  Cambridge  was  never  so 
emptied  of  its  inhabitants  before.  The  college 
vacuum  alone  would  make  a  noticeable  solitude." 

Ten  days  later  he  writes,  — 

"Since  the  afternoon  I  made  you  a  flying  visit, 
I  have  been  in  the  social  line  almost  entirely  lim 
ited  to  the  company  of  John  Holmes,  an  old  gradu 
ate  of  (if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so)  about  your 
time.  This  old  gent  is  perhaps  rather  a  redactor 
temporis  acti  than  a  laudator,  but  at  the  same  time 
designates  the  period  since  1832  as  margin,  and 
sometimes  as  leavings.  He  often  hints  at  a  comrade 
he  has  over  your  way  who  is  a  capital  auxiliary — 


INTRODUCTION  xli 

dives  into  the  past  at  any  depth,  and  always  brings 
up  something  worth  having.  Do  enquire  over 
there,  and  see  if  any  such  old  gent  is  to  be  found 
in  your  neighborhood. 

"You  are  the  only  fellow  I  know  who  has  held 
to  his  anchorage  solidly  and  creditably  and  not 
migrated  for  the  sake  of  migration.  It  looks  rather 
flighty,  doesn't  it,  to  see  a  lot  of  sober  house 
holders,  as  with  us  in  Cambridge,  for  example, 
pack  up  and  decamp  as  if  a  Mongol  army  were  at 
hand,  and  that  at  a  time  when  their  surroundings 
are  at  their  pleasantest. 

"It  seems  a  reproach  to  the  absentees  when  you 
behold  the  fruits  of  the  tropics,  and  the  ice  of  the 
poles  offering  themselves  to  the  scanty  remnant  in 
Appian  Way,  for  example. 

"But  it  is  no  use  to  set  up  an  opposition.  The 
fugitives  may  be  (between  you  and  me)  weak  in 
judgment,  but  they  are  strong  in  numbers,  and 
we  won't  waste  our  time  in  moralizing  over  the 
frivolities  of  a  world  whose  weak  points  you  and  I 
have  long  since  found  out,  and  with  mutual  satis 
faction  have  laid  before  each  other. 

"You  might  now  to  some  purpose  take  a  lantern 
a  la  Diogenes  to  find  a  man  with  in  Cambridge! 
The  genus  seems  almost  extinct  here.  If  two  men 
meet  by  chance,  they  embrace  with  tears,  and  if 
five  should  come  together,  the  Cambridge  papers 
speak  of  a  festival. 

"Everyone  seems  anxious  to  establish  an  alibi. 


xlii  INTRODUCTION 

A  small  party  of  boys  came  through  A.  W.  last 
evening  with  a  drum,  and  an  anonymous  wind 
instrument,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  other  small 
boys  flock  to  the  excitement  and  march  alongside 
with  exhilaration. 

"Some  think  this  was  a  device  of  the  City 
Government  to  cheer  the  depressed  and  deserted 
citizens  —  others,  that  it  is  to  show  the  evil- 
intentioned  of  all  sorts  that  the  town  —  now  con 
sisting  of  some  six  or  seven  grown  people  —  is  pre 
pared  for  invasion. 

"What  can  a  man  say  impressive  or  amusing 
about  a  vacuum?  All  he  can  tell  is  how  many  had 
to  be  emptied  out  to  make  the  vacuum. 

"If  the  Universalist  Church  had  n't  been  moved 
in  three  pieces  up  the  main  street  in  the  Port,  I 
think  some  of  the  few  left  here  would  have  perished 
of  mental  atrophy,  but  that  has  kept  them  up  in  a 
feeble  way. 

"There  is  something  fanciful  about  it,  too,  to 
the  old  inhabitant;  it  suggests  as  far  as  it  goes  the 
old  town  with  its  day  and  evening  quiet.  It  was 
very  accommodating  in  my  friends  to  evacuate  the 
premises  unanimously  and  simultaneously  to  afford 
me  this  picture  of  the  past. 

"What  a  brave  old  boy  are  you  to  go  to  the  moun 
tains.  I  hope  they  pumped  up  their  best  air  for  you, 
and  that  you  made  the  most  of  it.  'My  name,' 
you  can  now  say,  'is  Charles  W.  Norval  from  the 
Grampian  Hills.'  There  is  nothing  more  rheumatic, 


INTRODUCTION  xliii 

crampy,  sciatical  than  a  mountain.  I  wonder  you 
went  there." 

Any  one  who  is  familiar  with  the  solitude  of 
a  Cambridge  summer  will  fully  appreciate  Mr. 
Holmes's  meditations  on  it,  and  especially  A.  W. 
as  he  called  it,  where,  if  two  cats  crossed  the  street, 
all  the  neighbors  rushed  to  the  windows. 

"I  like  to  sit  on  a  bench  in  the  Common  in  sum 
mer,"  he  said,  "and  drink  in  the  east  wind  with  its 
fine  old  odor  of  cellarage." 

To  Miss  Grace  Norton  he  writes,  — 

"Your  name  before  me  reminds  me  what  a 
graceless  'old  gent'  (if  you  will  allow  that  expres 
sion)  I  must  appear  to  be,  but  you  must  know  that 
I  am  delicate  on  the  matter  of  locomotion.  Don't 
shock  Appian  Way  by  suggesting  a  coupe.  I  met 
Miss  Grace  Ashburner  in  September  one  day,  and 
persuaded  her  to  sit  pastorally  on  a  bench  in  the 
Common,  and  soon  after  that  was  laid  up,  quite  a 
long  time  since. 

"I  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  most  tempestu 
ous  ocean  of  circumstances  with  a  tremendous  cross 
sea  running  which  has  very  nearly  thrown  me  on 
my  beam-ends.  I  borrow  these  terms  from  the 
shipping  reports  to  suit  my  distressed  circum 
stances.  An  old  gent  more  exercised  with  various 
activities  than  I  of  late  it  would  be  hard  to  find. 
I  feel  more  like  Talleyrand  just  now  than  any  other 
historical  personage  —  I  mean  so  very  diplomatic. 

"I  am  a  tempest-tossed  man.  'T  is  now  the  sea- 


xliv  INTRODUCTION 

son  of  |  Taxes |  hateful  word.  It  is  the  time  for  small 
collections  and  large  disbursements  —  the  time  for 
expeditions  to  the  metropolis,  agitation,  general 
disquiet." 

John  Holmes  and  the  melancholy  Jaques  would 
have  had  a  wonderful  time  moralizing  together  on 
life  in  Appian  Way  and  its  neighborhood. 

"The  world  isn't  what  it  used  to  be,  eh?  It 
needs  one  or  two  philosophers  who  are  just  now 
somewhat  in  retirement  to  do  a  little  adjusting,  eh? 
What  do  you  say?  Though  for  my  part  I  am  willing 
to  let  it  go  on  experimenting  until  it  gets  wiser. 

"I  have  no  news  to  send  you.  The  horse  was 
killed  so  long  ago  by  the  pendent  wire  carrying  the 
charge  of  a  bigger  wire,  that  I  can't  offer  it  as  a 
novelty.  Have  you  ridden  in  the  electric  cars? 
Have  you  been  to  the  theatre  within  three  months, 
as  a  man  whom  I  know  has?  Have  you  been  to 
lectures  on  Babylon  and  Babylonian  excavations 
and  relics,  as  a  man  I  know  has?  If  you  only  lived 
here  we  would  go  to  lectures  (open  to  the  public) 
till  we  ran  over  with  knowledge. 

"I  took  cold  last  night  from  my  open  window 
with  all  the  bed-clothes  off,  and  my  interior  by 
5  o'clock  this  morning  reminded  me  of  a  ropewalk 
manned  by  diligent  workers. 

"The  solitude  here  is  more  marked  methinks 
than  last  year.  One  kind  of  population  is  plenty 
at  No.  5  A.W.  viz.,  cats.  They  seem  an  Ecumen 
ical  Council.  Rose,  a  great  favorite  with  Miss,  dis- 


INTRODUCTION  xlv 

appeared  from  Saturday  night  till  this  forenoon, 
when  she  sauntered  in  at  the  front  gate  with  that 
irrelevant  air  that  cats  have,  and  showed  little 
emotion  at  the  great  joy  she  caused.  She  is  blase 
and  metropolitan  in  her  ways.  She  came  up  and 
took  possession  of  my  chair,  but  soon  relinquished 
it  and  lounged  out  of  my  room,  looking  for  a 
larger  sphere  of  action  and  contemplation." 

In  answer  to  a  question  from  Mr.  Higginson, 
Mr.  Holmes  replies,  — 

"The  aunt  in  question  was  old,  unwieldy  and 
lame.  Consequently,  instead  of  a  filial  eagerness  to 
accompany  and  assist  the  aunt  on  her  return  home, 
and  a  pleasant  fraternal  competition  for  office,  the 
tendency  of  both  sons,  William  the  elder  and  Dun 
ham,  was  —  auntrifugal.  They  both  shunned  that 
particular  by-path  of  duty.  So  that  when  Mrs.  H. 
said,  'William,  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  home  with 
your  aunt,'  William  immediately  added,  'Dunham, 
don't  you  hear  your  mother?'  Dunham  was  never 
known  to  give  William  any  credit  for  relinquishing 
his  right  of  primogeniture." 

Mr.  Waldo  Higginson  was  one  of  the  Trustees  of 
the  Harvard  Divinity  School,  and  as  he  lived  at  a 
distance  Mr.  Holmes  took  great  pleasure  in  con 
sidering  himself  his  deputy  in  Cambridge  and_in 
sending  frequent  bulletins. 

"The  School  comes  on  well.  We  had  a  Baby 
lonian  the  other  evening,  preached  in  Chaldee, 
with  a  fine  presumption  that  he  was  understood  by 
the  School." 


xlvi  INTRODUCTION 

And  again,  a  few  months  later,  — 

"Please  tell  Waldo  (we  must  tell  him  something 
about  the  School,  I  suppose)  —  tell  him  —  well  — 
that  the  School  has  got  the  sniffles,  and  you  can 
hear  them  sneezing  and  blowing  in  a  still  night,  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off  —  and  they  are  just  as  con 
troversial  about  medicine  as  theology,  and  have 
their  Sudorites  and  Antis,  who  don't  speak,  but 
send  each  other  calumnious  notes. 

"One  fellow  under  the  influence  of  sniffles  and 
snake-root,  which  (the  infusion)  he  takes  in  great 
quantities,  has  relapsed  into  Calvinism,  but  the 
board  has  cut  off  his  rations,  and  he  is  coming 
round  at  last  accounts." 

And  so  these  pleasant,  friendly,  rambling  notes 
went  on  and  on,  even  when  his  eyesight  was  too  dim 
to  see  the  lines. 

Old  age  he  kept  wonderfully  at  bay  by  his 
jaunty  bearing  and  undaunted  courage.  Reluc 
tantly  giving  up  an  excursion,  he  says,  "Our  old 
friend  Weather  dropped  in  and  told  me  that  con 
sidering  my  age  he  advised  me  not  to  go.  He 
should  n't  wonder  if  we  had  rain. 

"'As  for  my  age,'  said  I;  but  he  smiled. 

" '  I  can't  stop,'  said  he;  *  I  Ve  got  a  picnic  to  give 
a  ducking  to.  Good  morning,'  and  he  was  off." 

Mr.  Holmes  rather  resented  help  and  gloried  in 
being  able  to  get  off  a  Broadway  car  before  it  had 
quite  stopped,  "thus  redeeming  my  reputation  for 
vigor,  after  having  been  handed  down  steps  by 


INTRODUCTION  xlvii 

ladies  and  the  like.  Having  landed  without  acci 
dent,  I  walked  off  with  perhaps  something  of  a  juve 
nile  air,  wielding  the  valise  as  if  a  pleasure,  rather 
than  burden." 

He  thought  nothing  when  nearly  blind  of  going 
out  in  the  winter  evenings  to  see  a  sick  friend,  re 
gardless  of  snow  and  ice.  He  repudiated  any  sug 
gestion  of  wearing  overshoes.  "Wet  feet  —  non 
sense.  When  we  were  boys  our  feet  were  always 
wet  through  from  morning  till  night.  We  thought 
nothing  of  it." 

When  he  could  not  read  the  name  on  a  trolley- 
car,  he  would  board  one  car  after  another,  getting 
on  and  off  recklessly  until  he  hit  on  the  right  one. 

So  quietly  and  gently  he  entered  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow,  often  forgetting  the  present,  and  living 
in  old  memories  with  his  father  and  mother,  and 
more  and  more  loving  to  hear  some  one  play  the 
old  hymn-tunes  on  the  piano. 

"I  want  L.  to  come  and  read  the  Bible  to  me." 

"Oh,  let  me,"  I  said,  "I  should  love  to." 

"No,"  he  said,  "that  would  n't  do,  you  are  not 
orthodox  enough.  I  want  L." 

And  then  suddenly  came  the  end,  and  we  could 
say  again  with  Judge  Hoar:  — 

Whenever  you  take  the  journey 
That  leads  through  the  shadows  dim 
Please  say  to  the  One  who  sent  you  here, 
That  we  're  much  obliged  to  him. 

ALICE  M.  LONGFELLOW. 


THE  LETTERS  OF 
JOHN  HOLMES 

CHAPTER  I 

ORIGIN  AND  EARLY  LIFE 

NOBODY  could  be  more  surprised  than  John 
Holmes  himself,  could  he  know  that  his  letters  were 
collected  into  a  volume;  for  no  one  was  less  aware 
than  he  of  their  strange  originality  and  unpremed 
itated  charm.  The  shyest  of  men,  he  led  a  life  so 
devoid  of  events  that  he  furnished  only  the  slight 
est  material  for  a  biography.  And  yet  he  had  the 
capacity,  common  only  to  original  persons,  of  tak 
ing  in  even  the  most  trivial  experience,  of  trans 
muting  it  through  his  imagination  until  it  seemed 
a  part  of  himself,  and  of  stamping  on  his  descrip 
tion  of  it  his  unmistakable  individuality. 

The  public  hardly  knew  him  at  all.  During 
most  of  his  life  he  passed  among  strangers  as  "the 
brother  of  his  brother";  but  among  his  friends  — 
and  he  had  many  of  them,  as  these  letters  will  show 
—  his  depth  of  affection,  his  gift  of  intimacy,  not 
less  than  his  playfulness,  drollery,  and  unquench 
able  humor,  made  him  desired  and  beloved.  Low 
ell,  the  lifelong  friend  of  both  brothers,  used  to 
speak  of  John  as  the  rarer. 


2  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

John  Holmes  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Massa 
chusetts,  on  March  29,  1812.  His  father,  Abiel 
Holmes,  had  been  settled  as  pastor  of  the  First 
Congregational  Church  since  1791.  His  mother, 
Sarah  Wendell,  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  Hon 
orable  Oliver  Wendell,  of  Boston.  The  first  Holmes 
in  America,  the  great-grandfather  of  Abiel,  was 
among  the  founders  of  the  village  of  Woodstock, 
Connecticut,  in  1686  —  an  energetic  man,  who  ran  a 
saw-mill  and  a  fulling-mill.  His  grandson,  David, 
served  as  a  captain  in  the  Old  French  War  and  as 
an  army  surgeon  in  the  Revolution. 

The  first  wife  of  Abiel  Holmes  was  Mary,  daugh 
ter  of  Ezra  Stiles,  President  of  Yale  College.  "The 
Reverend  Abiel  Holmes,"  writes  Mr.  John  T. 
Morse,  Jr.,  "was  a  clergyman  who  taught  the  old- 
fashioned  Calvinism  with  all  its  horrors,  and  yet, 
apart  from  his  religious  creed,  was  a  gentleman  of 
humanity  and  cultivation." x  The  second  Mrs. 
Holmes,  the  mother  of  John  and  Oliver,  born  in 
1768,  remembered  how,  when  she  was  a  little  girl, 
she  was  hurried  off  from  Boston,  then  occupied  by 
the  British  soldiers,  to  Newburyport.  "Her  traits," 
continues  Mr.  Morse,  "were  very  different  from 
those  of  her  husband.  She  was  a  bright,  vivacious 
woman,  of  small  figure,  and  sprightly  manners. 
Being  also  very  cheerful  and  social,  and  fond  of 
dropping  in  upon  her  neighbors,  and  withal  of  sym- 

1  J.  T.  Morse,  Jr.,  Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
(Boston,  1896),  i,  15. 


ORIGIN   AND  EARLY  LIFE  3 

pathetic  and  somewhat  emotional  temperament,  so 
that  she  readily  fell  in  with  the  mood  of  her  friend, 
whether  for  tears  or  for  laughter,  she  was  a  very 
popular  lady,  whom  every  one  greeted  kindly."  l 
Mrs.  Holmes  came  of  old  Puritan  stock,  tracing 
back  through  various  ancestors  to  Thomas  Dud 
ley,  Governor  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony, 
whose  daughter  was  Anne  Bradstreet,  the  "Tenth 
Muse."  The  Oliver,  the  Jackson,  and  the  Quincy 
families  were  among  her  connections. 

The  old  gambrel-roofed  house,  dating  from  1718, 
which  Parson  Holmes  occupied,  belonged  to  his 
father-in-law,  Judge  Wendell,  with  whom  he  lived 
until  the  judge's  death  in  1812,  when  it  became 
the  property  of  Mrs.  Holmes.  Situated  thirty  or 
forty  rods  north  of  Harvard  College  Yard,  near  the 
site  of  the  present  Harvard  Law  School,  its  western 
windows  faced  the  old  road  to  Lexington  and  Con 
cord.  Just  across  the  Cambridge  Common  rose  the 
Washington  Elm  on  the  farther  side.  Many  years 
later  Dr.  Holmes  thus  described  it:  "The  gambrel- 
roofed  house,  though  stately  enough  for  college 
dignitaries  and  scholarly  clergymen,  was  not  one 
of  those  Tory  Episcopal-church-goer's  strongholds. 
The  honest  mansion  makes  no  pretensions.  Ac 
cessible,  comfortable,  respectable,  and  even  in  its 
way  dignified,  but  not  imposing,  not  a  house  for 
His  Majesty's  Councillors,  or  the  Right  Reverend 

1  John  T.  Morse,  Jr.,  Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver  Wendett  Holmes 
(Boston,  1896),  i,  15. 


4  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Successor  of  him  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head,  for  something  like  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
it  has  stood  in  its  lot,  and  seen  generations  of  men 
come  and  go  like  leaves  of  the  forest.  It  was  a  great 
happiness  to  have  been  born  in  an  old  house,  haunted 
by  such  recollections,  with  harmless  ghosts  walking 
its  corridors,  and  that  vast  territory  of  four  or  five 
acres  around  it,  to  give  a  child  the  sense  that  he 
was  born  to  a  noble  principality.  I  should  hardly 
be  quite  happy  if  I  could  not  recall,  at  will,  the  old 
house  with  the  long  entry  and  the  white  chamber, 
where  I  wrote  the  first  verses  that  made  me  known 
["Old  Ironsides"],  and  the  little  parlor,  and  the 
study,  and  the  old  books,  in  uniforms  as  varied  as 
those  of  the  Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery  Com 
pany  used  to  be,  and  the  front  yard  with  the  stars 
of  Bethlehem,  and  the  dear  faces  to  be  seen  no 
more  there  or  anywhere  on  this  earthly  place  of 
farewells." 

Springing  thus  from  roots  which  ran  deep  into 
the  early  times  of  Connecticut  and  of  Boston,  John 
Holmes  inherited  what  we  should  now  call  the 
unmixed  Yankee  tradition.  Everything  tended  to 
develop  in  him  the  strongest  local  affections.  The 
old  house  that  was  his  home  linked  him  with  the 
past.  The  village  in  which  he  grew  up  —  for  Cam 
bridge  was  then  only  a  village,  still  small  enough 
for  its  inhabitants  to  know  one  another,  at  least 
by  sight  —  gave  him  that  sense  of  belonging  to 
an  entire  and  homogeneous  community  which  the 


ORIGIN  AND   EARLY  LIFE  5 

dwellers  in  cities  can  never  feel.  He  knew  not  only 
all  the  Cantabrigians,  but  also,  in  a  boy's  way,  all 
the  haunts  of  the  place  —  the  brooks  and  ponds, 
the  spots  on  the  river  Charles  where  the  best  skat 
ing  was  to  be  found  in  winter  and  the  best  fishing 
at  other  seasons;  and  long  before  he  became  an 
undergraduate,  he  was  familiar  with  the  academic 
festivals  of  Harvard  College.  For  then  the  college 
was  Cambridge  to  a  degree  undreamed  of  today, 
and  many  of  the  townspeople  profited  —  as  they 
do  now  —  in  one  way  or  another  from  the  institu 
tion.  Those  were  the  days,  too,  when  all  the  citi 
zens  took  a  genuine  pride  in  having  the  oldest  and 
foremost  of  American  colleges  in  their  town;  when  a 
professor — there  were  only  half  a  dozen  of  them — 
was  regarded  with  reverence  if  not  with  awe,  and 
the  President  was  a  person  of  almost  Olympian 
dignity.  Very  parochial  must  the  Cambridge  life  of 
the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  seem  to 
us  who  are  now  caught  up  in  the  rush  and  change 
and  cosmopolitanism  of  a  distracted  and  dubious 
generation.  Ixion  on  his  wheel,  glancing  in  his 
swift  whirling  at  the  immutable  Pyramids,  may 
aptly  symbolize  our  attitude  toward  a  past  which 
thought  itself  grounded  in  immutability. 

Of  John  Holmes's  boyhood  I  find  no  written 
trace;  but  we  can  infer  something  about  it  from  al 
lusions  in  his  letters.  Only  one  anecdote  has  sur 
vived.  When  he  was  five  years  old  his  brother 
Oliver,  two  and  a  half  years  his  senior,  took  him  to 


6  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

witness  the  last  hanging  in  Cambridge.  The  scene 
was  the  Gallows  Lot  on  Jones's  Hill,  which  slopes 
north  of  Linnsean  Street.  This  indulgence  in  the 
morbid  love  of  horror,  common  to  children,  brought 
the  older  brother  a  sound  scolding. 

John  passed  through  the  usual  juvenile  educa 
tion  of  Cambridge  and,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  en 
tered  Harvard  College  in  the  class  of  1832.  Among 
his  classmates  were  several  youths  who  achieved 
distinction  in  later  life  —  Josiah  G.  Abbott,  Har 
vard  Overseer  and  Member  of  Congress;  Henry  W. 
Bellows,  Unitarian  minister  and,  during  the  Civil 
War,  fervent  patriot;  Charles  T.  Brooks,  also  a  Uni 
tarian  minister,  poet,  translator  of  Faust;  George 
Ticknor  Curtis,  legal  writer,  biographer  of  Web 
ster,  authority  on  constitutional  history;  and  John 
S.  Dwight,  musical  critic  and  diffuser  of  the  love  of 
music  in  the  United  States.  Of  these,  Dwight  be 
came  an  intimate,  and  another  classmate,  Estes 
Howe,  was  a  lifelong  friend.  During  John's  fresh 
man  year,  his  brother  Oliver  was  a  senior  in  the 
class  of  1829,  and  during  his  own  senior  year 
E.  Rockwood  Hoar,  another  lifelong  friend,  was  a 
freshman.  John  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those 
inconspicuous  fellows  who  make  up  the  majority  of 
every  college  class.  A  fair  student  but  not  brilliant, 
quiet,  shy,  he  was  the  delight  of  a  few  cronies,  with 
whom  he  let  himself  out.  If  organized  athletics  had 
existed  in  his  time,  his  smallish  figure  would  not 
have  recommended  him  for  a  crew. 


ORIGIN  AND   EARLY  LIFE  7 

After  graduating  in  1832  Holmes  entered  the 
Harvard  Law  School,  where  he  pursued  a  desultory 
course  of  study,  interrupted  by  sickness,  until  1836. 
Then  follows  a  blank  year,  after  which  he  entered 
the  law  office  of  Loring  and  Dehon,  who  held  an 
honorable  position  at  the  Boston  Bar.  We  cannot 
think  of  him  as  a  practising  lawyer,  nor  did  he 
stick  long  to  the  profession;  but  he  loved  the  old 
legal  phrases  with  which  he  used  unexpectedly  to 
heighten  the  comic  effect  of  a  droll  bit  of  conver 
sation.  In  1839  he  made  a  trip  to  Europe,  of  which 
he  left  no  record.  On  returning  home  he  settled  in 
the  old  house  with  his  mother,  to  whom  he  devoted 
himself  as  tenderly  and  as  unremittingly  as  if  she 
were  his  daughter.  His  father  had  died  in  1837. 

Now  began  the  mature  life  of  John  Holmes,  a  life 
which  continued  for  over  fifty  years,  varying  little 
in  essentials,  but  deeply  rooted  in  friendship  and 
always  revealing  his  sensitive  heart  and  his  fan 
tastic  humor.  He  was  already  a  "ripe  local  man," 
saturated  in  Cambridge  traditions  and  ways  —  a 
zealot  for  "oppidanism,"  as  he  playfully  called  love 
of  one's  native  town.  In  spite  of  his  shyness,' he 
had  a  very  sociable  nature,  which  endeared  him 
to  his  acquaintances  in  Cambridge  and  his  rela 
tives  in  Boston.  Gradually  there  formed  an  inner 
circle  of  cronies,  several  of  whom  were  his  college 
contemporaries.  Most  famous  among  these  was 
James  Russell  Lowell,  seven  years  younger  than 
Holmes,  who  immediately  on  leaving  college 


8  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

plunged  enthusiastically  into  Abolition  and  other 
reform  movements.  His  zeal  in  these  causes,  com 
bined  with  his  great  talent  for  poetry  and  his  love 
of  literature,  made  him  an  inspiring  companion, 
and  the  fact  that  he  was  early  drawn  to  John 
Holmes  is  an  indication  of  the  range  of  the  latter 's 
sympathies. 

At  the  end  of  1844  Lowell  married  Miss  Maria 
White,  of  Watertown,  and  they  spent  that  winter 
in  Philadelphia,  where  he  wrote  articles  for  Gra 
ham's  Magazine,  the  Pennsylvania  Freeman,  and 
the  Broadway  Journal  While  he  was  there  John 
Holmes  wrote  him  the  following  letter,  the  first 
that  has  come  to  hand  of  their  extensive  corre 
spondence  :  — 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  19,  1845. 
MY  DEAR  SIR:  — 

Though  I  wish  you  home  again,  I  don't  wish  you 
to  come  without  receiving  a  letter  from  me,  ac 
knowledging  your  kindness  in  sending  me  a  paper 
which  I  read  with  satisfaction. 

I  have  frequently  thought  of  writing  without  this 
reference  to  mutuality,  but  the  little  intercourse  I 
have  had  with  Cambridge  society  and  the  extreme 
meagreness  of  our  chronicles  and  of  my  own  indi 
vidual  experience,  deterred  me.  My  principal  occu 
pation  the  past  season  has  been  as  engineer  to  an 
airtight  stove,  which  I  flatter  myself  I  have  con- 


TO  J.   R.    LOWELL  9 

ducted  with  commendable  skill.  Notwithstanding 
explosions  and  rumours  of  explosions  among  these 
powerful  instruments  of  good  or  evil,  I  have  sat  the 
winter  long,  calm  and  immoveable,  at  that  extrem 
ity  of  my  stove  where  the  door  is,  and  at  some 
doubtful  periods  nothing  but  the  moral  dignity  of 
my  position  has  compensated  the  risk  incurred.  I 
have  often  contemplated  with  seriousness  a  rigid 
cast-iron  rose  in  the  centre  of  the  door  above 
mentioned,  not  knowing  but  that  the  following  mo 
ment  I  might  bear  a  lively  impression  thereof  upon 
my  abdomen.  On  such  occasions  I  thought  of  my 
country  and  the  aid  I  might  furnish  to  science  (not 
botanical  in  particular)  and  remained  stern  and 
unmoved:  I  have  thus  in  the  end  contributed  my 
mite  to  the  science  of  thermology  (excuse  the  fab 
rication  of  a  word).  So  closely  are  the  spiritual 
and  material  allied  here,  that  this  simple  structure 
of  sheet-iron  made,  for  a  time,  quite  a  "butt  or 
bound"  (01.  Prec.)  in  my  existence.  A  theoretical 
economy  based  upon  the  thing  gave  me  placid  sat 
isfaction  for  a  week  or  two  after  the  purchase:  by 
that  time  the  economy  was  less  brilliant,  but  the 
heat  was  intense  and  I  had  a  large  balance  to  make 
up  from  the  previous  winter,  and  now  that  win 
ter  is  past,  the  economical  theory  is  exploded,  the 
stove  is  safe,  I  have  been  warm  and  am  so  far 
content.  So  much  for  my  stove. 

I  rode  round  by  your  father's  house  a  short  time 
[ago]  and  looked  with  much  satisfaction  at  the  spot 


10  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

where  I  hope  your  cottage  is  to  be.1  I  should  like 
to  have  you  a  Cambridge  householder  as  soon  as 
may  be.  We  have  had  I  think  more  than  the  usual 
share  of  warm  weather  this  spring,  a  pleasant  invi 
tation  which  Cambridge  gives  you  and  Mrs.  Lowell 
to  return  to  her. 

I  saw  Carter  a  few  days  since  —  he  seemed  well 
and  happy  —  he  has  spent  the  night  with  me  twice 
this  spring  and  we  have  played  chess  prodigiously 
but  with  extreme  calmness  of  demeanour  —  Carter 
I  think  would  charm  the  Brahmins  and  wise  men  of 
the  east  —  his  equable  deportment  alone  would  en 
title  him,  I  think,  to  attend  their  levees  and  soirees; 
he  might  give  them  lessons  in  their  own  geography 
and  they  repay  in  doctrinal  matter;  if  they  should 
persuade  him  into  metempsychosis,  I  think  he  might 
reasonably  assume  that  his  soul  had  changed  tene 
ments  so  often,  that  tranquillity  under  all  circum 
stances  had  been  forced  upon  it  by  habit. 

I  hope  to  see  yourself  and  Mrs.  Lowell  on  here 
soon,  and  that  on  the  first  evening  of  your  return 
there  will  be  a  Southwest  wind  and  a  rosy  sunset  — 
and  with  my  best  regards  to  you  both,  I  am 

Yours  truly. 

1  Elmwood,  situated  about  a  mile  west  of  Harvard  Square.  Lowell 
never  built  the  cottage  mentioned,  but  on  his  return  to  Cambridge 
lived  with  his  parents. 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  11 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

BRATTLEBORO',  May  27,  1846. 

Rainy,  Wind  S.E. 
MY  DEAR  SIR:  — 

As  you  sent  me  a  paper  from  foreign  parts,  to 
wit,  Philadelphia,  so  I  proceed  at  this  time  to  send 
you  a  letter  from  among  the  outer  barbarians  who 
now  surround  me  —  to  wit,  the  Brattleborienses. 
Yes,  Sir,  here  I  am  with  numerous  other  sojourn- 
ers,  all  of  us  working  our  way  by  water  through  life, 
at  least  this  portion  of  it.  I  presume  that  I  have 
changed  all  the  particles  in  my  frame  some  ten 
times  over  since  I  came  here;  still  you  will  allow 
me  to  assume  the  fact  of  my  identity  with  J.  H., 
a  lame  individual  who  left  Cambridge  some  time 
since.  I  suppose  you  may  feel  some  curiosity  about 
the  operations  here  and  their  effects,  and  taking  it 
for  granted  that  you  have  read  somewhat  on  the 
subject,  I  can  confirm  some  of  the  statements  fre 
quently  made  by  those  who  have  written  thereupon 
—  for  instance,  as  to  the  evenness  of  spirits,  the 
cheerfulness  resulting  from  the  treatment  and  diet, 
and  in  some  instances  the  great  curative  power 
exercised.  I  say  "some  instances,"  for  one  would 
not  wish  to  be  involved  in  any  medical  discussion 
or  dubious  statements.  [Some  cases  quoted,  and  a 
discussion  of  the  house.] 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  our  drink  is  Adam's 
Entire.  The  old  and  highly  respectable  firm 


12  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Adam  &  Co.,  after  suffering  immensely  from  the 
various  adulterations  and  impositions  of  the  un 
principled  upon  a  deluded  public,  seem,  to  judge 
by  the  circle  immediately  about  me,  to  be  in  a  fair 
way  to  regain  their  former  high  reputation.  By 
the  way,  if  hermits  were  in  like  demand  as  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  Doctor  might  establish  a  branch 
institution  for  the  Education  and  Preparation  of 
Young  Hermits,  with  much  success,  in  my  opinion : 
the  great  difficulty  nowadays  would  be  with  the 
beards  to  obtain  the  necessary  growth.  ...  I  think 
my  lameness  much  improved,  but  I  seem  a  pro 
tracted  infant  always  learning  to  walk.  Don't  you 
think  you  shall  be  tempted  to  look  in  upon  us?  . . . 
With  all  my  (water)  privileges  here  I  look  back 
fondly  upon  our  ancient  and  well-beloved  Cam 
bridge,  and  think  much  of  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
my  friends  there.  Brattleboro'  is  a  very  pretty 
place;  one  of  those  that  nature  does  not  permit  to 
be  otherwise. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  30,  1847. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES:  — 

I  send  you  $5  for  Newfoundland  —  is  it  meagre? 
Then  I  will  round  out  its  proportions  with  many 
good  wishes  and  hopes  for  the  poor  hungry  people, 
and  am 

Yours  truly. 


TO  J.   R.   LOWELL  13 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

PITTSFIELD,  September  26,  1849. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES  LOWELL  :- 

I  left  Cambridge  on  Wednesday,  September  5, 
at  7J  for  the  Brighton  station,  vulgo  depot.  I  ar 
rived  at  that  place  without  adventure  or  incident 
worth  noticing,  entrenched  myself  firmly  behind 
my  trunk  and  very  corpulent  carpet  bag,  and  thus 
lay  in  ambush  for  the  Worcester  train.  My  view 
of  the  landscape  through  the  embrasure  in  my 
little  redoubt  was  limited,  but  satisfactory  as  far 
as  it  went,  and  I  listened  to  the  slow  and  sparse  in 
terlocutions  about  me  with  —  what  shall  I  say? — 
a  gloomy  satisfaction.  For  you  are  to  understand 
there  was  a  spongy  sky  overhead,  and  everything 
even  to  the  aspect  and  tones  of  the  ticket-seller, 
portended  rain;  and  in  the  narrow  and  precip 
itous  defile  where  our  forces  were  collected,  a  sud 
den  rush  of  the  pluvial  might  have  hurried  us  all 
into  destruction.  Gloomy  were  we  all,  then,  and 
with  good  reason,  and  a  tear  stood  in  the  eye  of  the 
clerk  as  he  gave  me  my  ticket;  for  he  was  bound  to 
die  at  his  post,  holding  on  to  the  W.  R.  R.1  treasure 
trunk,  and  awaiting  the  8  o'clock  up.  A  silence 
came  over  us  all. 

Here  was  I,  then,  twenty  minutes  since  comfort 
ably  at  home,  now  in*  the  centre  of  a  pallid  group, 
all  fastened  and  fascinated  in  this  dreadful  spot. 

1  Boston  &  Worcester  Railroad. 


14  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  made  an  effort  to  break  the  horrid  silence  and  dis 
pel  the  panic  which  pervaded  all,  from  a  cause 
which  none  dared  to  mention.  "How,"  said  I, 
looking  at  Winship's  verdant  bank  opposite,  "how 
are  gooseberries  this  season?"  "Our  talk  here  and 
now  is  not  of  gooseberries,"  replied  the  clerk,  in  a 
solemn  tone.  I  was  rebuffed.  The  clerk  sat  down, 
took  a  way-bill  and  perused  it  with  an  earnest  and 
absorbed  gaze,  heaving  heavy  sighs.  It  seemed  to 
operate  as  a  sedative.  The  train  came  rolling  along; 
a  general  cry  arose,  "We  are  saved."  We  mounted 
the  cars,  leaving  the  clerk  in  a  swoon.  I  have  never 
heard  of  him  since.  .  .  . 

Thus  far,  you  see,  I  have  written  in  the  amplify 
ing  style.  If  I  had  only  said  that  I  went  to  Win- 
ship's  and  got  into  the  cars,  it  would  have  been  a 
bald  and  at  the  same  time  a  succinct  truism,  and  by 
the  other  method  I  have  written  nearly  two  pages, 
and  barely  commenced  my  western  tour.  And  you 
know  I  am  obliged  to  be  economical  so  as  to  reserve 
a  little  for  oral  narrative.  The  truth  is,  it  is  all 
a  blank  from  Winship's  to  Springfield,  and  from 
there  to  Pittsfield  a  chasm.  So  I  come  to  my  stay 
at  Pittsfield.  I  will  describe  the  place  to  you  when 
I  come  home.  I  have  here  been  robustious,  labori 
ous,  an  early  riser,  and  a  prodigious  admirer  of 
nature.  I  have  chopped  wood  and  tried  to  catch 
pickerel,  and  killed  a  frog  (for  bait,  mark  me,  and 
at  a  blow  —  he  never  knew  what  hurt  him,  as  the 
popular  phrase  is). 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  15 

Having  proceeded  thus  far  in  my  promised  let 
ter,  I  turn  from  myself  to  you  and  the  small  band 
of  friends  in  Cambridge,  whom  I  look  back  upon 
with  the  reverted  eye  of  memory  —  (what  do  you 
think  of  this  expression  —  rather  handsome,  eh?). 
I  really  want  to  see  you  again,  and  as  so  much  time 
has  elapsed  since  the  disastrous  result  of  the  voting 
appeared,  I  hope  to  see  you  cheerful  —  or  at  least 
composed,  including  the  Doctor,  who  has  invested 
more  extensively  in  local  politics  than  any  of  us. 
From  my  elevated  position  —  2  or  3000  feet  above 
the  sea  (ask  Garter)  —  I  look  down  upon  my  friends 
of  the  plains  and  bless  them  like  a  patriarch. 

I  write  because  I  said  I  should;  accept  that  as  a 
reason  for  this  communication. 

And  believe  me, 

Yours  affectionately  and  humbly  to  command. 

The  first  of  the  Letters  that  follow  is  an  excellent 
specimen  of  Holmes's  unconscious  art  of  putting 
into  a  letter  pretty  much  all  that  a  letter  should 
contain.  He  gives  news  of  himself  and  of  local 
events  and  persons;  he  touches  a  little  on  wider  con 
cerns;  and  he  lets  his  own  personality  play  freely 
over  it  all.  Lowell,  having  lost  his  wife  and  having 
been  appointed  by  Harvard  College  to  the  chair  of 
Belles  Lettres,  from  which  Longfellow  had  just 
resigned,  was  spending  a  year  of  study  in  Europe 
to  fit  himself  for  his  prospective  duties  as  professor. 


16  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

BOSTON,  No.  11  Court  St. 
September  11,  1855,  to  September  25. 
MY  DEAR  J.  L.:- 

I  sit  down  now  in  a  very  subdued  frame  of  mind 
to  write  you,  —  loaded  with  a  heavy  sense  of  my 
failure  to  fulfil  the  promise  I  gave,  to  tell  you 
promptly  what  had  been  going  on  after  you  left. 
There  is  one  streak  of  light  in  my  moral  prospect, 
namely  that  nothing  perhaps  took  place  to  tell  you 
of,  in  which  case  I  am  all  right.  The  marriage  of 
M.  W.  is  totally  excluded  from  my  jurisdiction  as 
a  bachelor,  and  besides  that,  let  me  ask  myself 
and  you,  what  is  there  to  record?  The  truth  is,  if 
folks  will  go  a-belle-lettering  to  Europe,  or  a-get- 
ting  married  to  N.  York,  and  so  disjointing  and  dis 
organising  the  society  to  which  they  rightly  belong, 
they  ought  to  let  silence  brood  over  the  desertion, 
and  not  ask  the  derelicts  to  jot  down  their  suffer 
ings  for  amusement. 

I  wrote  so  far,  I  think,  on  Tuesday  September  11, 
and  it  is  now  the  14th.  —  I  have  jogged  along  this 
Summer  in  a  very  monotonous  manner,  and  have 
seen  less  of  my  usual  associates  in  Cambridge  than 
for  a  long  time  before.  .  .  .  Henry  Ware  has  been 
less  in  my  way  than  usual,  and  the  fact  was  ex 
plained  a  few  weeks  since  by  his  telling  me  that  he 
was  engaged  to  Miss  Hastings  (daughter  of  Oliver). 
.  .  .  This  is  quite  an  event  and  it  seems  as  if  Old 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  17 

Cambridge  had  brooded  in  silence  for  a  month  or 
two  to  produce  it. 

When  I  turn  from  private  affairs  to  public,  there 
is  a  comparative  fertility.  Poor  little  Harvard 
Branch1  was  sold  up  about  two  months  since - 
Wm.  L.  Whitney  bought  it,  $10,500,  and  he  has  re 
sold  it  in  the  most  thorough  manner  —  land  (most 
of  it),  rails,  turntable-stones  (foundation-under 
pinning),  and  hath  made  a  good  bargain  of  it. 
I  should  not  omit  the  station  house,  which  was 
sold  in  lengths  like  tape  —  and  of  which  the  front 
part  was  bought  by  College  for  the  use  of  the  new 
Professor  Huntington. 

Then,  one  fine  Saturday  afternoon  about  two 
months  since,  the  Waterworks  were  symbolized 
into  existence  by  Mayor  Raymond  with  a  spade, 
and  the  next  thing  was  a  handbill  from  Nat.  Wyeth 
circulating  through  the  town  and  on  every  post  and 
corner,  reading  like  this,  —  "The  fisheries  at  Fresh 
Pond  are  worth  $100,000  —  they  will  be  ruined  - 
who  is  to  pay  for  them?  There  is  not  water  enough 
for  their  purposes,  &c.  &c.  —  The  charter  of  the 
W.  W.  C.  is  invalid,  &c."  I  give  you  the  style  and 
spirit  rather  than  the  words.  A  lawyer  has  prayed 
for  an  injunction  and  on  Monday  we  shall  see  if  it 
will  be  granted  —  probably  not,  the  public  thinks. 

Then,  one  fine  day  a  man  up  and  said,  "They 
have  begun  the  Horse  R.R." —  and  so  they  had; 
but  no  symptom  had  appeared  in  our  part  of  the 

1  Of  the  Fitchburg  Railroad. 


18  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

town  to  indicate  such  events;  up  to  the  very  mo 
ment  of  announcement  there  was  only  a  vague 
conjectural  opinion  —  rather  a  presentiment,  in 
Old  Cambridge,  that  in  the  course  of  some  few 
coming  decades  there  would  be  constructed  a  Horse 
R.R.  They  are  now  pegging  away  at  it  in  a  style 
which  contrasts  amusingly  with  the  mildly  anxious 
uncertainty  or,  perhaps,  the  philosophical  calm 
which  previously  prevailed  in  Cambridge  minds 
respecting  the  project.  The  first  sign  that  the  pub 
lic  generally  discovered  of  such  a  proceeding,  was  a 
body  [of]  men  in  the  middle  of  West  Boston  Bridge 
hacking  and  ripping  with  pickaxes,  as  if  to  cut 
off  the  communication  between  Boston  and  Cam 
bridge,  and  stop  some  too  importunate  invader. 
Soon  after  we  beheld  heaps  of  gravel —  small  pav 
ing-stones  from  the  seaside  —  and  timbers  —  and 
soon  after,  form  and  comeliness  emerging  from  the 
confused  mob  of  operators,  in  the  shape  of  a  track, 
complete  all  but  the  rail  —  and  they  have  done  a 
piece  which  I  shall  leave  to  your  fancy  to  exagger 
ate  or  diminish.1 

It  is  now  September  21,  and  I  resume.  I  went 
with  my  sister  to  Salem  day  before  yesterday, 
Wednesday,  to  go  with  Mr.  Upham2  to  Plum 
Island  on  Thursday,  which  I  did  accordingly  and 
among  other  objects  of  natural  beauty  that  I  saw 

1  This,  the  first  horse-railroad  for  passengers  in  New  England,  was 
opened  March  26,  1856. 

2  Charles  Wentworth  Upham,  Mr.  Holmes's  brother-in-law. 


TO  J.  R.   LOWELL  19 

there  was  a  glass  of  strong  water  —  We  walked 
from  Newburyport  (to  which  by  cars)  to  Plum 
Island,  and  back  again  after  our  dinner,  making 
a  decent  tramp  for  (hem!  excuse  a  slight  cough) 
middle-aged  men.  But  I  am  afraid  you  don't  care 
for  Plum  Island,  and  plain  Republicans  that  take 
a  frugal  walk  to  and  fro,  breathing  as  you  do  the 
atmosphere  of  thrones  and  dynasties.  I  fear  you 
will  come  back  and  be  a  churchwarden  and  wear 
a  gold-headed  cane  and  talk  about  incendiaries 
(social).  "When  I  was  in  Dresden,  Sir,  in  the  year 
'55,  Sir,  nothing  gave  me  more  pleasure,  Sir,  than 
to  see  how  the  lower  orders,  Sir,  were  restrained 
and  coerced,  Sir,  into  decent  manners."  A  tap 
with  the  gold-headed  cane  on  some  young  Ameri 
can's  head  who  has  a  lesson  of  reverence  to  learn, 
may  accompany  this  reminiscence. 

(September  25.)  I  have  written  a  word  or  two 
before  inserting  this  new  date,  which  I  do  by  way 
of  penance.  I  have  just  heard  last  night  at  the 
Doctor's  of  your  disappointment  at  not  finding 
letters,  and  feel  a  dismal  regret  at  the  potentiality, 
now  past,  which  I  have  enjoyed  of  writing  to  you 
in  season.  The  intention  to  write  was  so  sound,  so 
full,  so  plethoric  even,  that  I  have  at  least  furnished 
a  noble  piece  of  hell-pavement  —  but  I  shan't  sus 
pect  you  of  taking  any  interest  in  such  improve 
ments.  The  monotone  of  my  previous  life  has 
been  changed  to  a  semitone  by  your  departure, 
M.  White's  marriage  and  H.  Ware's  engagement, 


20  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

and  as  fast  as  I  accommodate  myself,  as  well  as  I 
can,  to  each  change,  some  new  one  comes  along. — 
I  suppose  that  when  you  get  settled  for  the  winter, 
letters  will  not  be  so  valuable  as  on  first  arrival  at 
Dresden,  and  mark  my  words,  I  mean  to  send  you 
a  letter,  yea  more  than  one,  when  I  know  it  will 
be  at  a  discount  —  when  you  will  utter,  "Hem! 
Hem!"  or  some  other  outlandish  expression  of  dis 
approval  or  indifference  —  and  thus  pay  social 
damages  for  not  writing  before.  .  .  . 

One  thing  would  please  you  much  if  you  were 
here —  it  is  the  immoveable  tranquillity  with  which 
Old  Cambridge  takes  all  the  innovations — you 
know  how  it  bore  the  gas  (a  great  shock)  with 
out  winking.  It  has  allowed  waterworks  and  Horse 
R.R.  to  be  begun  with  even  greater  stoicism  — 
nobody  knew  anything  about  time,  place  or  cir 
cumstance,  and  nobody  knows  now  more  than 
is  thrust  before  their  eyes  —  I  have  no  doubt  I 
might  safely  talk  in  our  coteries  of  the  $2,000,000 
stock  and  $100  shares  selling  at  $150  each,  and 
fail  to  create  contradiction  or  excitement.  We 
have  had  no  Club  yet  nor  talked  of  it — and  I  have 
hardly  seen  Carter  these  three  or  four  weeks.  There 
has  been  a  Fusion  Convention  at  Worcester  and 
Rockwell  nominated,  and  it  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  Know  O's1  and  Whigs  will  adhere  —  The 
Doctor  will  tell  you  probabilities  in  his  letter.  .  .  . 

Underwood  and  Southard  produced  part  of  their 

1  Know  Nothings. 


TO  J.   R.   LOWELL  21 

opera,  which  you  may  have  heard  of,  founded  on 
[The]  Scarlet  Letter,  at  a  late  musical  Convention 
with  much  applause.  John  Dwight  highly  ap 
proves.  .  .  .  C.  S.1  is  thriving  and  sends  his  love  to 
you;  for  know  all  men  by  these  presents,  that  I  am 
writing  at  No.  11  Court  St.  —  Ninety-nine  Fresh 
men  this  year,  and  115  Sophs.  They  ought  to 
catch  another  Fresh,  somewhere  to  make  the  round 
hundred.  I  hope  you  are  having  a  pleasant  time 
and  doing  your  duty  by  storing  incidents  for  the 
Club.  We  all  miss  you  and  want  you  back.  If  they 
make  me  Law  Professor  we  shall  both  be  in  the 
faculty  together. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  10,  1855. 
MY  DEAR  BOY:  — 

I  received  yours  of  October  15  two  days  since 
and  read  it  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  notwith 
standing  the  attack  on  my  legal  skill.  This  I  dis 
pose  of  by  three  alternative  statements.  1st.  It  is 
the  jest  of  an  honorary  brother  of  the  profession2 — 
a  privileged  communication.  2d.  It  is  a  disguised 
form  of  envy  —  that  I  readily  overlook  and  com 
passionate.  3d.  It  is  a  distortion  of  mind  that  you 
have  got  among  the  German  jurists,  who  I  know 
are  my  habitual  detractors.  So  you  see  I  am  per- 

1  C.  W.  Storey,  whose  office  was  at  11  Court  Street. 

2  Lowell  himself  had  qualified  as  a  lawyer,  but  he  never  practised. 


22  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

fectly  easy  —  and  don't  you  feel  any  remorse.  As 
to  girls  in  an  astronomical  point  of  view,  I  am 
mostly  conversant  with  fixed  stars;  and  by  the  way 
I  was  a  little  shocked  that  you  should  allude  to 
such  things  as  comets  —  that  go  flying  about  in 
open  sight  with  bare  tails. 

No  meeting  of  the  Club !  Yes,  no  meeting  of  the 
Club.  Sir!  did  n't  I  write  in  September?  and  if  I 
did  n't,  have  we  always  waited  the  slow  conven 
ience  of  oysters?  But  let  me  tell  you  now  that  we 
have  had  but  one  meeting  to  this  time,  and  more 
than  that,  —  that  I  do  not  consider  ourselves  at 
present  as  the  regular  Club,  but  as  the  Club 
ad  interim  only,  and  if  you  have  credit  enough 
among  the  Teutschers  to  borrow  a  Latin  Diction 
ary,  you  will  know  what  I  mean  by  ad  interim.  As 
to  Club  divergencies  about  corks,  you  do  faintly 
recall  something  of  the  kind.  I  only  retained  a 
general  but  profound  impression  that  all  corks  were 
insecure  when  you  were  about. 

Now,  as  you  say,  a  truce  to  nonsense,  and  let  us 
begin  on  the  regular  matter,  as  newspapers  call  it. 
I  seem  up  to  this  point  to  have  been  answering  my 
own  first  letter. 

I  am  highly  pleased  with  your  excerpts  from 
life  about  you,  —  your  enthusiastic  bugger — your 
very  innocent  or  heinously  indifferent  servants, 
and  all  the  other  particulars  —  excellently  ob 
served  and  told  —  go  on  in  the  path  of  duty.  Why 
can't  you  keep  a  little  journal  of  the  odd  and 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  23 

picturesque,  ever  so  brief?  The  energy  of  a  little 
punctuality  is  the  only  tug  in  such  things,  as  the 
Herr  Professor  knows.  Do  let  me  beg  you  to  keep 
an  eye  on  historic-remarkable-locals  (to  compound 
Teutsch-like).  Please  examine  the  great  battle 
fields  when  you  come  across  them,  as  convenience 
allows,  and  make  note!  You  ought  to  bring  home 
a  relic,  if  you  can  get  them  undoubted,  from  every 
such  spot  you  visit.  Especially  please  recollect  that 
as  things  grow  commonplace  to  you  by  famil 
iarity  and  proximity,  they  don't  to  us  away,  and 
so  be  on  your  guard  against  the  depreciation.  I 
would  bet  on  you  to  go  over  the  most  hackneyed 
route  in  Europe,  and  without  effort  to  give  an  in 
teresting  account.  I  mean  confining  yourself  quite 
strictly  to  mere  observation.  It  is  not  the  roads  but 
the  men  who  are  at  fault  in  the  frequent  peregrina 
tions.  Even  where  a  man  has  little  ability,  he  can 
throw  his  own  grotesque  shadow  as  he  goes  along 
and  amuse  you.  As  a  private  luxury  I  should  like 
to  send  Sibley  and  P.  Dabney1  both  on  a  long  tour; 
they  would  not  only  entertain  me  with  very  curious 
narratives,  but  would  have  a  splendid  controversy 
when  they  got  home,  for  which  I  should  gladly  fur 
nish  paper  and  ink,  relying  on  them  for  the  need 
ful  truculence  and  venom.  What  bitter  allegations 
and  contradictions  would  fly  forth  and  back  to 
weave  the  web  of  controversy ! 

1  John  L.  Sibley,  Harvard  A.B.  1825,  Librarian  of  Harvard  Col 
lege,  1856-77;  and  J.  Peele  Dabney,  Harvard  A.B.  1811  —  both 
worshipers  of  minute  details. 


24  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

"Sibley  says,  p.  643,  paragraph  9241 :  'The  cele 
brated  Spire  of  Strasburgh,  completed  11|  A.M. 
March  10,  1197,  is  490|  feet  in  altitude/  [Dabney 
replies:]  "Had  Mr.  S.  elevated  his  unwieldy  bulk 
to  the  height  which  accurate  observation  de 
manded,  and  registered  in  his  caput  mortuum  results 
which  his  egregious  parsimony  perhaps  would  have 
hindered  his  spending  the  requisite  six  groschen 
to  obtain,  he  would  not  have  had  his  usual  success 
in  diffusing  error;  he  would  have  told  the  world 
one  solitary  truth,  and  spoiled  the  harmony  of 
his  wretched  compilation  —  this  truth,  viz.,  that 
Strasburgh  Spire  is  492  feet  NO  inches  high!" 

Again  exparte  Sibley.  "Mr.  Dabney  says,  p.  214, 
'That  the  inhabitants  of  the  District  of  Streib- 
hauser  make  frequent  use  at  supper  of  a  kind  of 
pease  porridge  which  they  call  Hoegen  Schwasch.' 
Now  I  spent  two  months  in  this  region  endeavour 
ing  to  verify  the  date  of  the  erection  of  the  town 
hall  of  Voettelsuntrink,  which  is  the  capital  of  the 
District,  and  I  can  confidently  say  that  I  never  saw 
pease  used  in  any  shape  more  than  half  a  dozen 
times,  and  never  at  supper  or  in  the  evening!  So 
much  for  Mr.  D's  accuracy!" 

Now  to  tell  you  about  our  town.  Your  friends  are 
well  I  believe  all  round,  except  Henry  Ware,  who 
has  a  severe  typhoid.  He  was  reported  better  yes 
terday  for  the  first  time. 

The  internal  improvements  seem  to  be  running 
a  mad  race  through  the  village,  —  ploughing  up 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  25 

roads  and  intercepting  our  daily  pilgrims.  It  takes 
about  an  hour  to  go  to  Boston  now,  starting  on 
Main  Street.  The  little  bridge  is  being  rebuilt  and 
intercepts  Main  and  Harvard  Streets;  the  travel 
for  a  part  of  the  way  is  all  thrown  on  Broadway, 
which  is  wofully  cut  and  slashed.  The  Horse  Rail 
Road1  has  got  up  to  the  apex  made  by  Main  and 
Harvard.  The  waterpipes  have  crept  along  Brat 
tle  Street,  I  don't  know  how  far.  I  will  now  give 
you  a  photograph  of  the  Common  as  it  appears 
this  bright  Saturday  afternoon.  I  have  been  to  the 
window  and  taken  the  impression.  The  result  is 
five  teams  in  different  directions,  and  your  neigh 
bor  Will  is  dismounting  from  his  chaise  at  the 
Harvard  R.R.  Station2  —  that  was.  You  know 
H.B.R.R.3  has  been  sold  up.  Well,  College  bought 
the  station  house,  curvature  of  the  spine  and  all. 
They  have  cut  off  two  thirds  or  more  of  the  rear 
for  a  carpenter's  shop  (the  old  College  carpenter's 
shop),  and  left  the  front  for  the  new  Professor 
Huntington 3  for  moral  gymnastics.  I  don't  know 
exactly  what.  Well,  Will  is  in  the  photograph  dis 
mounted  there  —  he  came  out  in  a  minute  or  two 

1  The  horse-car  line,  between  Bowdoin  Square,  Boston,  and  Har 
vard  Square,  was  laid  in  1855-56. 

2  The  Harvard  Branch  of  the  Fitchburg  Railroad,  of  which  the 
Cambridge  station  was  near  the  Holmes  House,  had  recently  been 
sold,  and  its  traffic  discontinued. 

8  Harvard  Branch  Railroad. 

4  Professor  Frederic  Dan  Huntington,  Harvard  Divinity  School, 
1842;  Plummer  Professor  of  Christian  Morals,  1855-60;  P.  E.  Bishop 
of  Central  New  York,  186&-1904. 


26  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

and  went  his  way  —  restless  spirit  of  a  jeweller 
turned  gentleman.  Well,  for  the  photograph.  I 
don't  give  you  the  general  view  because  you  know 
it  too  well — but  the  remains  of  the  old  schoolhouse 
shed  a  homely  horror  yet,  on  the  opposite  .side. 

The  old  Farwell  store  with  5000  ft.  of  land  was 
sold  about  a  month  since  for  —  how  much,  think 
you?  verily  $14,000  —  by  the  Reads,  some  of  them 
(to  be  occupied  by  John),  and  with  their  excellent 
conservatism  to  be  only  raised  and  enlarged  —  not 
replaced.  I  see  Carter  now  very  little;  Underwood1 
a  little  —  and  call  pretty  often  on  the  Doctor.  So 
ciety  is  a  watchman's  beat  with  me.  I  go  forward 
and  backward,  sometimes  as  you  know,  crying 
Twelve  —  aye  Two  o'  the  clock  and  all  is  well  — > 
but  that  seldom  now.  By  the  way,  with  refer 
ence  to  your  comparative  juvenility,  I  hope  you 
like  the  ink  I  use.  I  find  it  very  pleasant  to  write 
with  and  shall  hardly  expect  any  complaint  from 
you,  but  if  its  black  stare  is  offensive,  I  will  water 
it  another  time. 

You  don't  know  perhaps  that  the  K.  N.'s 2  have 
triumphed  again  by  about  14,000  plurality.  The 
Whigs  have  dwindled  to  the  smallest  dimensions  — 
about  14,000  votes  in  the  whole  state. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  the  cab-horse  enthusi 
asm  of  the  bug  artist  —  a  right  good  expression. 

1  Francis  H.  Underwood,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly. 

2  Know  Nothings,  a  transient  political  party. 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  27 

I  rather  think  you  are  having  a  good  time  in 
Dresden  —  do  you  drink  beer  by  the  yard  and  eat 
sausages  by  the  mile?  How  did  they  feel  about 
Sebastopol?1  You  can  answer  my  question  to  any 
other  correspondent  who  will  tell  me.  What  are 
their  affinities,  I  wonder.  The  Saxons  I  should 
think  would  like  to  see  Russia  cudgeled.  Oh,  about 
the  inscription  at  Coblentz  —  that  prefecture 
might  be  the  [illegible]  of  an  Italian  as  well  as^a 
Russian.  At  any  rate,  whatever  the  French  may 
be,  I  looked  only  to  the  sentiment,  leaving  it  to 
minuter  critics  who  should  come  after  me  to  cen 
sure  the  language. 

I  have  been  lame  now  about  a  month,  but  have 
hobbled  out  in  the  evening  with  a  crutch  —  deem 
myself  a  good  deal  better  now.  I  am  very  much 
pleased  with  your  letter  and  commend  you  for 
sending  it,  —  (coals  of  juniper)  I  am  going  to  read 
it  to  night  at  the  Doctor's,  omissis  omittendis. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  6,  1855. 
The  same  ink  I  see  with  which  I  wrote  you  be 
fore,  but  I  will  have  another  bottle  e'er  this  page  is 
finished  or  perish  h\the  struggle  to  obtain  it.  This 
is  fit  only  to  record  decayed  friendships  and  obso 
lete  enmities  —  or  virtuous  resolutions  not  to  be 
enforced  —  or  certificates  of  stock  in  the  H.B.R.R. 

1  Sebastopol  surrendered  to  the  French  and  English  on  Septem 
ber  8,  1855,  after  a  siege  of  over  11  months. 


28  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  am  very  much  pleased  to  discern  in  your  letter 
to  me  ("the  receipt  of  which  is  hereby  acknowl 
edged")  the  marks  of  cheerfulness.  It  is>  your 
bounden  duty  to  be  [as]  cheerful  as  you  can  —  you 
mustn't  sit  tapping  on  your  chest,  as  a  raven 
might  do  upon  a  snuff-box  that  he  could  not  open, 
but  you  must  fly  round  in  obedience  to  the  law 
of  your  natural  temperament,  although  the  reading 
should  be  temporarily  obscured.  Germany  seemed 
to  me  a  cosy  and  companionable  land,  and  you 
have  already  lit  upon  some  that  confirm  my  pre 
possessions — your  nice  Dr.  Reichenbach,  to  whom 
I  would  fain  send  my  regards  is  one  of  them— your 
bug  enthusiast  would  make  an  infusion  of  amusing 
character  that  would  flavor  a  dozen  ordinary  men. 
I  should  like  to  make  a  concrete  bug  out  of  the 
parts  of  divers  species,  and  send  it  to  him,  if  I  had 
the  artistic  skill. 

All  things  have  gone  on  in  a  moderate  way  since 
I  wrote  you  last  except  Railroad  and  Waterworks; 
they  have  been  in  a  state  of  high  inflammation 
since  their  commencement;  it  has  come  to  a  head 
now  I  understand  down  in  our  Square,  and  a  vio 
lent  eruption  there  promises  a  speedy  improve 
ment  of  the  complaint.  I  have  been  lying  by  since 
I  wrote  you  —  my  leg  is  much  better  now  —  but  I 
speak  by  hearsay  about  the  middle  of  the  village 
as  yet  —  not  having  been  there  for  a  good  while; 
but  I  have  tramped  about  with  my  crutch  in  other 
directions. 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  29 

We  had  Club  last  Thursday  night,  6th  (a  week 
ago),  at  Garter's  and  tonight,  Friday,  14th,  have 
it  at  the  Doctor's,  vice  Underwood's  who  was  to 
have  had  it.  We  enjoyed  your  verses,  which  the 
Doctor  read  to  us,  exceedingly,  and  had  a  right 
merry  time  over  them.  Carter  has  the  goat  yet, 
but  we  found  that  Jimmy  had  made  a  bonfire  of 
the  hay  which  had  been  laid  in  for  its  winter  feed. 
Jimmy  sat  at  a  corner  of  the  table  at  the  beginning 
of  our  play  and  was  examined  by  the  Club  respect 
ing  his  misdeeds.  We  found  the  various  packs  of 
cards  that  were  presented,  mixed  up  and  disfig 
ured,  and  after  some  exertion  selected  one  sound 
pack.  We  played  till  near  12  and  who  do  you  sup 
pose  beat  every  time  and  one  staggering  mephitis? 
It  is  in  season  that  I  recollect  the  176  bye-law  of 
our  Club,  which  says  that  "no  special  information 
respecting  the  doings  of  the  Club  shall  be  trans 
mitted  to  correspondents  out  of  the  country  even 
though  the  same  should  be  members  thereof." 

In  compliance  with  that  ordinance,  I  forbear.  But 
for  this  ordinance  I  should  mention  that  we  had 
Bourbon  Whiskey,  crackers  and  cheese. 

The  village  of  course  seems  very  quiet  to  me.  I 
make  my  calls  in  the  evening  —  go  to  the  Doctor's, 
etc.,  and  have  stretched  up  to  Carter's  two  or  three 
times.  I  don't  very  often  see  little  Mabel.1  When 
I  do,  she  appears  very  bright  and  well.  Charley 
Storey  comes  out  to  see  me  generally  twice  a  week 

1  Mr.  Lowell's  daughter. 


30  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

and  makes  himself  very  agreeable;  he  insists  on 
looking  at  the  black  front  of  my  stove  instead  of 
taking  the  guest's  seat  and  looking  in  at  the  door 
where  fire  may  be  seen  as  well  as  felt.  He  has  been 
quite  busy  lately  and  is  in  very  good  spirits. 

Mrs.  Horsford  died  a  short  time  since,  at  Shelter 
Island  where  they  had  gone  to  spend  Thanksgiv 
ing.  Dr.  Harris  has  been  very  ill  with  pleurisy,  is  bet 
ter.  Judge  Jackson  died  yesterday  morning  —  he 
has  been  very  infirm  for  the  last  year. 

Henry  Ware  is  but  just  getting  about  now  — 
walked  as  far  as  our  house  for  the  first  time  on 
Monday,  and  then  would  n't  come  upstairs  but 
rested  in  the  entry  a  few  minutes,  —  he  begins  to 
gain  faster  now. 

I  look  out  on  the  Common  —  there  is  about  an 
inch  of  snow,  but  the  roads  are  black.  I  can  with 
great  ease  imagine  you  swinging  across  it  with  your 
chamois  stick  and  your  great  blue  cloakcoat.  I 
bear  a  grudge  to  that  chamois  ever  since  we  hooked 
so  many  passengers  with  it  as  we  travelled  Boston 
streets  one  night.  You  needed  a  ball  on  your  horn 
as  much  as  an  ox.  I  hope  you'll  take  my  advice 
yet,  and  get  it  truncated  or  balled. 

If  you  go  to  Paris  do  look  at  the  Revolutionary 
places  for  me — at  the  Abbaye,  etc.,  such  as  remain. 

Monday  morning,  December  17. 
I  must  as  usual  make  an  allusion  to  the  weather. 
It  is  a  beautiful  April  morning,  mud  plenty  in  the 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  31 

streets.  We  have  been  having  several  days  of  rain. 
Whenever  you  write  me  again  do  tell  me  about 
your  weather  —  give  us  the  values  in  Fahrenheit 
if  you  can.  How  many  valuable  impressions  have  I 
lost  by  the  references  to  Reaumur's  scale,  whose 
relations  to  his  rival  F.  I  have  never  remembered 
two  days  together;  but  if  enlightened  by  foreign 
residence  you  should  be  tempted  to  smile  at  my 
ignorance,  let  me  ask,  do  you  remember  the  values 
of  a  kopeck,  a  rouble,  a  rupee,  a  piaster,  of  an  hec 
tolitre,  a  lispund,  a  kilogramme?  all  these  are  fa 
miliar  to  me  as  —  but  let  me  not  boast  myself. 

We  had  Club  on  Friday  night  at  the  Doctor's, 
it  not  being  quite  convenient  for  Underwood,  who 
has  it  next  week.  Lois  as  you  call  her,  Mrs.  H.  as  I 
do,  went  to  a  concert  at  Mr.  Hodges's  with  Miss 
Dunlap.  There  was  a  romp  of  children  going  on  in 
the  parlor.  After  we  had  played  a  little  while, 
Mabel  came  in  with  Sam,  both  in  high  spirits,  and 
bade  us  good-night.  Mabel  looks  nicely.  Well  at 
it  we  went  at  about  8,  and  I  think  we  did  not  leave 
off  till  somewhere  near  12J.  Ordinance  176  again 
prevents  my  telling  you  who  beat.  Perhaps  I  may 
say  that  if  immediate  execution  had  awaited  the 
party  which  lost  the  rubber,  Little  and  B.1  would 
not  at  this  day  be  without  their  literary  assistant 
—  the  goat  would  not  be  without  a  master.  Carter 
and  Underwood  occasionally  fall  into  a  controversy 

1  Little  &  Brown,  the  firm  of  Boston  publishers,  with  which  John 
Bartlett  was  connected. 


32  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

about  their  respective  firms,  in  which  each  plumes 
his  feathers  and  crows  a  little.  Carter  assumes  the 
air  of  a  long-established  dealer  whose  eminence  in 
trade  is  too  well  known  to  need  much  argument; 
Underwood  responds  as  a  pioneer  in  enterprise, 
tells  of  splendid  sales,  and  smiles  gently  at  the 
decent  moderation  of  the  old  concern.  The  Doc 
tor  and  I  applaud  every  dexterous  thrust  and  fierce 
dig. 

Carter's  cigars  are  rather  severely  borne  upon 
since  your  lines,  but  he  smokes  them  with  great 
equanimity. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant  time. 

Please  tell  me  the  next  time  you  write  me  what 
weather  attends  your  north,  south,  east  and  west 
winds  generally.  I  should  like  to  compare  them 
with  ours.  I  am  willing  to  appoint  you  my  philos 
opher  at  the  Court  of  Saxony. 

Waldo  Higginson1  and  his  wife  have  come  out  to 
stay  the  winter  at  Mr.  Whittemore's. 

I  went  over  to  Mrs.  Howe's  last  night.  Doctor 
and  wife  and  girls  there;  a  pleasant  quiet  time. 

I  hope  you  are  very  well  and  happy  now  at  Dres 
den.  Our  winter  and  fall  have  been  very  mild  to 
this  time  —  if  yours  have  been  as  warm,  you  have 
been  well  off.  Brown  got  back  here  a  few  weeks 
since  in  good  condition  —  called  to  see  me  a  few 
minutes. 

I  believe  I  have  exhausted  my  stock  of  informa- 

1  Waldo  Higginson,  Harvard  1833,  died  1894. 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  33 

tion  and  suggestion  for  the  time  and  so  will  con 
clude,  adding  a  postscript  if  occasion  offers. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  Janvier  27,  1856. 
MON  CHER  JACQUES:  — 

Je  vous  repondrai  en  Frangais  (c'est  a  dire  pour 
une  part  de  ma  lettre)  parce  que  je  crois  que  vous 
recevrez  beaucoup  d'amusement  en  voyant  ma 
pauvrete  en  regard  de  cette  langue,  et  en  riant  sur 
mes  mesappropriations  et  fabrications  des  mots. 

Neanmoins  je  sens  une  certaine  embarrassement 
quand  je  cherche  dans  ma  memoire  pour  les  tresors 
de  Wandstrocht  et  de  Nugent.  Depuis  j'ai  tra- 
vaille  avec  ces  sages,  la  neige  a  tombe  sur  ma  tete  et 
refroidi  mon  ardeur  pour  les  langues.  Je  reste  mon 
credit  principalement  sur  lequel  j'ai  oublie.  Appar- 
emment,  la  langue  Franchise  est  promotive  de  la 
perspiration.  Je  sens  une  chaleur  oppressive,  sans 
la  moindre  particle  de  1'ardeur.  Mais  courage,  il 
faut  que  nous  supportions  notre  reputation  comme 
linguiste.  J'ai  toujours  eu  une  grande  admiration 
pour  la  "lingua  Franca."  C'est  une  approximation 
a  une  langue  universelle  —  une  espece  de  compro 
mise  par  laquelle  tous  donnent  et  tous  regoivent  un 
peu.  J'aimerais  mieux  d'en  faire  usage  que  de  la 
pure  Franchise. 

Pour  les  nouvelles  de  Cambridge,  nous  avons  eu 
depuis  un  mois  un  hiver  des  plus  forts.  Les  train- 


34  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

eaux  "have  run  all  that  time"  comme  disent  les 
Americains.  Le  Docteur  Harris1  est  mort  et  Sib- 
ley  pleurt  officiellement,  non  autrement,  je  crois.  La 
nouvelle  compagnie  a  achete  tous  les  omnibus  de 
Stearns  et  Willard.2 

I  can't  stand  it  any  longer;  the  French  does  not 
disguise  my  poverty  of  news  nor  the  news  my 
poverty  of  French. 

The  truth  is,  that  everything  here  is  quiescent 
as  usual  —  the  people  are  trying  to  keep  them 
selves  warm  and  not  much  else,  except  to  freeze 
themselves  occasionally  on  sleighrides. 

As  usual  I  had  thought  this  time  to  have  begun 
an  answer  to  your  letter  immediately.  I  received 
it  December  22. 

I  was  very  sorry  to  find  you  repeat  your  assertion 
about  the  internal  pain,  and  I  hope  most  sincerely 
that  since  that  time  you  have  improved  and  are 
well. 

I  have  heard  at  the  Doctor's  that  you  really  be 
came  ill  upon  it,  and  I  hope  that,  from  that  time, 
you  have  taken  a  new  start  in  health.  When  you 
wrote  I  presume  you  to  have  been  better. 

I  trust  you  will  get  nicely  over  your  difficulty 
and  write  me  heartily  to  that  effect. 

I  will  now  allude  to  the  other  parts  of  your  let 
ter  which  present  a  violent  contrast  to  the  idea  of 

1  Thaddeus  William  Harris,  Harvard  College  Librarian,  1831-56. 
Sibley  succeeded  him. 

2  Owners  of  the  line  of  omnibuses  which  ran  to  Boston. 


TO   CHARLES   ELIOT  NORTON  35 

illness.  In  the  first  place  let  me  say  that  the  "cab- 
horse  enthusiasm"  to  which  I  alluded,  and  which 
you  say  you  don't  understand,  was  an  expression  of 
yours  in  a  former  letter  when  you  were  describing 
the  entomological  enthusiast,  and  it  hit  my  fancy 
as  very  good. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  the  collectanea  of  actual 
life  that  you  send  me;  they  are  very  good.  I  am 
glad  to  have  them  down  on  paper,  but  the  idea  of 
your  not  being  in  the  good  spirits  of  high  health 
damps  the  fun  of  them. 

I  ought  to  tell  you,  perhaps,  that  I  have  got  well 
again,  so  as  to  walk  about. 

I  don't  make  a  point  of  going  to  Boston  very 
regularly  now,  my  business  not  being  so  urgent  (as 
it  was,  shall  I  say?)  as  to  oblige  me  to  go  often.  I 
live  a  very  quiet  life  as  you  may  suppose,  and  have 
my  melancholy  days  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  world, 
but  make  out  tolerably,  taking  it  altogether. 


To  CHARLES  ELIOT  NORTON 

February  21,  [I860]. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  NORTON,  - 

I  thank  you  for  your  invitation  for  Wednesday 
evening.  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  enjoy  the  occa 
sion  in  your  company,  but  I  will  drink  Lowell's1 
health  and  your  own,  in  the  best  potation  I  may 
have,  at  9  o'clock  by  the  town  bell.  And  if  the 

1  J.  R.  Lowell's  birthday  was  February  22. 


36  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

ringer  by  any  mysterious  impulse  shall  ring  a 
louder  and  a  longer  peal  than  is  his  wont,  I  will 
then  drink  to  him,. as  a  worthy  workman  in  his 
craft,  that  he  may  have  only  so  much  rheuma 
tism  as  may  make  his  daily  and  nightly  labors  at 
the  bell  a  matter  of  sympathy  and  admiration,  and 
may  give  a  moral  coloring  to  his  11  and  4  o'clock 
draughts. 

You  will  congratulate  me  I  know  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  have  an  immense  literary  enterprise  on 
hand. 

I  prefer,  however,  to  keep  this  a  profound  secret 
between  yourself  and  me  until  I  shall  sometime 
tell  you  what  the  enterprise  is. 

Yours  truly 

JOHN  HOLMES. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  18,  1866. 
MEIN  LIEBER  JACOBUS  :- 

If  anything  of  which  I  draw  satisfaction  there  is, 
it  shall  be  that  having  gelandet  to  this  country  so 
late  than  by  the  year  1812,  I  have  so  learned  the 
tongue's  idiom  and  have  out  through  penetrated 
its  speaking  way  (weg  sprake)  of  it.  I  will  not  there 
fore  to  write  you  in  other  as  our  adopted  speech. 

I  have  with  Herr  Bartlett  twice  computing  to 
outcome  to  see  thee  bin  gehinderd.  My  ankel,  of 
which  I  hope  I  was  far  on  carried,  has  itself  very 
much  in  through  worse  bettered  (bei  ans  bloser- 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  37 

besser  gedruckf),  so  that  to  walk  is  a  not-to-be- 
thought-of  thing. 

Here  my  dear  James,  I  drop  the  pseudo-Teutonic, 
and  place  my  foot  on  my  native  heather,  to-wit, 
Webster's  and  Worcester's  Dictionaries. 

I  have  not  heard  directly  from  you  but  from 
indirections  which  have  come  to  me,  have  supposed 
you  better  of  your  cold.  I  hope  you  are  clear  of  it, 
I  am  sure.  If  you  are  well  enough  to  have  Club, 
I  must  tell  you  that  I  cannot  come.  Tuesday  eve 
ning  I  went  over  to  J.  B.'s  with  crutch  and  cane 
mighty  briskly,  feeling  as  if  I  could  almost  do  with 
out  them  —  came  home  all  right  and  when  I  went 
to  bed  had  to  take  my  crutch  to  get  there,  from 
excessive  lameness.  So  I  am  all  taken  aback  again 
and  feel  obliged  to  resume  the  careful  process. 

We  beat  you  at  the  Doctor's  3  to  2  I  think  (we 
won  the  rubber  anyhow),  J.  B.  playing  for  you. 
Twice,  as  our  German  friend  on  the  other  page  has 
told  you,  I  have  been  coming  up  to  see  you.  On 
Tuesday  night  J.  B.  was  hindered  by  a  dinner  invi 
tation  and  could  n't  be  out  in  season. 

Present  my  regards  to  Mrs.  LowelL  (That  is 
good  "old  school,"  is  n't  it?) 

Wishing  the  Club  all  sorts  of  prosperity  and  a 
little  less  colds  and  lame  shins. 

Assure  me  of  thy  prosperous  oncoming  by  note 
or  person. 


38  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

!!  J.  B.  This  a  horridly  trivial  letter  for  a  man  of 
my  years.  Read  it  to  yourself  and  Burn  it. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Monday  forenoon,  August  9,  '68. 
MY  DEAR  J.  B. :  — 

I  think  I  see  you  "laying  off"  in  the  country  of 
"protuberances"  (See  Geogr.  Def11 " Mountain  "), 
your  fishing-rod  leaning  against  one  mountain, 
your  hat  hung  on  the  summit  of  another,  and  your 
self  and  Mrs.  B.  and  Miss  B.  sitting  in  the  valley  be 
tween,  discussing  the  prospects  of  the  First  Parish 
in  Cambridge,  while  I  here  at  home  no  less  public- 
spirited  look  out  of  my  window  at  short  intervals 
to  see  that  the  repairs  go  on  properly. 

Solitude  reigns  here.  The  average  number  of 
people  that  pass  for  twelve  hours  from  6  to  6,  per 
hour  is  T\,  At  10.05  P.M.  the  travel  (of  pedestrians) 
is  0,  and  from  that  time  till  6  the  next  morning, 
you  can  hear  a  small  dog  bark,  over  the  river.  I 
should  like  to  hear  a  hand-organ,  or  some  fire 
crackers,  or  some  saw-filing  or  something.  The  only 
amusement  we  have  is  the  burglaries.  You  would 
be  surprised  to  see  how  cheerful  everybody  looks 
when  there  has  been  a  "breaking  and  entering" 
(local  expression).  But  they  are  very  rare. 

Of  course  we  can't  count  the  funerals  that  pass 
through  town  as  gaieties;  but  I  fear  that  some  peo 
ple —  I  hesitate  to  express  my  thought  —  yes  I 


TO  JOHN  BARTLETT  39 

will  say  it  —  that  some  people  begin  to  enjoy  them. 
The  city  government  foresaw  the  dullness  and  mel 
ancholy  of  midsummer  and  by  a  happy  thought, 
they  instituted  repairs  on  the  old  burial  ground  to 
keep  people's  spirits  up.  There  are  no  mosquitoes 
nor  bugs  and  I  confess  I  miss  them  —  they  made 
things  lively,  at  any  rate.  I  hope  you  continue  to 
have  a  most  complete  good  time.  All  the  fish 
hereabouts  are  delighted  at  your  excursion  and  are 
making  holiday.  Week  before  last  I  went  with  J.  L. 
to  Concord,  and  stayed  with  the  Judge1  from 
Wednesday  to  Friday  evening,  —  had  a  good  time 
and  came  home  to  resume  the  old  routine. 

Henry  Ware  has  come  home.  I  shall  call  on  him 
directly,  and  expect  at  the  same  time  to  enquire 
after  Nim,  whose  guardian  I  had  expected  to  be  at 
this  time. 

The  Doctor  is  at  home,  and  Tracy,  who  has  been 
away,  and  James  Howe,  who  has  ditto.  The  broth 
ers  are  going  on  the  20th  to  Worthington.  I  think 
it  is  where  they  lived  when  little  children.  I  will 
now  leave  a  space  to  fill  up,  if  the  general  depression 
and  vacuity  here  will  furnish  me  with  means. 

Diary  of  a  citizen  of  Cambridge 
Aug.  1.  Repairs    of   meetinghouse    and    burying 
ground  going  on  —  a  dorbug  flew  in  at  a 
"        window — causedalarm  of  burglars — great 
excitement  in  the  town. 

1  Judge  E.  R.  Hoar. 


40  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Aug.  2.  Repairs  still  going  on;  a  man  who  had  n't 
left  enough  in  his  bottle  fell  off  his  cart  but 
escaped  without  broken  legs — a  great  deal 
of  excitement  in  the  town. 

3.  Repairs  still  going  on. 

4.  Repairs  continued. 

5.  Repairs  on  the  meetinghouse  going  on. 

6.  Repairs  of  meetinghouse  and  burial  ground 
very  considerably  advanced. 

7.  Workmen  still  busy  on  the  meetinghouse. 

8.  The  repairs  of  the  church  are  continued. 

9.  The  meetinghouse  still  under  repair. 

I  shall  surprise  you  perhaps  by  telling  you  that 
I  too  am  going  to  make  an  excursion;  and  where  do 
you  suppose?  I  am  going  across  the  water.  What 
do  you  say  to  that?  I  am  going  to  leave  my  native 
home  —  its  solitudes,  sweet  though  sad  —  its  asso 
ciations —  its  group  of  familiar  friends — and  cross 
the  dreary  waste  of  waters  to  Boston. 

Please  tell  Miss  B.  that  I  thank  her  for  her  letter, 
and  that  the  small  contribution  did  not  deserve 
such  a  liberal  notice.  Tell  her  that  I  am  delighted 
to  hear  of  the  general  enjoyment  of  the  party,  and 
that  I  know  I  should  enjoy  a  great  deal  to  be  with 
them. 

I  thank  you  and  Mrs.  B.  for  your  kind  message. 

I  shall  expect  you  all  to  come  back  surcharged 
with  narrative,  for  which  I  pledge  myself  to  supply 
an  audience. 


TO  JOHN  BARTLETT  41 

The  men  are  just  going  by  with  their  scythes  to 
cut  the  grass  in  Harvard  Square  —  thought  by 
good  judges  to  be  at  the  rate  of  2J  tons  to  the  acre. 

There  is  a  man  under  my  window  says  he  wants 
to  find  the  way  to  Porter's  —  has  been  wandering 
about  for  an  hour  and  has  n't  seen  a  person.  Do 
you  call  that  solitude  or  not.  I  fear  that  I  am  verg 
ing  toward  fiction.  That  won't  do.  But  facts  are 
very  scarce  indeed. 

With  kind  regards  to  you  all. 

I  am  yours  aff. 

J.  H. 


CHAPTER  II 

SETTLING  DOWN 

CAMBRIDGE  in  the  fifties  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury  was  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in;  sufficiently 
near  to  Boston  to  put  its  inhabitants  within  reach 
of  theatres  and  concerts,  and  of  the  bustle  which 
commerce  brings  to  a  large  seaport,  and  of  the 
official  dignity  of  a  capital  city.  But  the  town  itself 
felt  no  inferiority;  indeed,  its  leading  people  seem 
sometimes  to  have  looked  down  a  little  on  the  rest 
of  the  world,  —  including  Boston.  The  old  nota 
bles,  who  dated  from  the  early  days  of  the  Re 
public,  had  nearly  all  passed  away,  but  the  recol 
lections  they  had  left  were  still  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  their  descendants,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  founders 
was  a  vitalizing  reality. 

Great  men  dwelt  then  in  Cambridge.  The  Craigie 
House  was  the  home  of  Longfellow,  a  poet  whose 
works  had  already  become  household  words  in 
America  and  whose  fame  was  surely  spreading 
through  the  world.  No  foreigner  came  to  these 
shores  without  seeing  him.  Lowell,  too,  was  rapidly 
rising  as  a  figure  in  our  national  literature.  Both 
he  and  Longfellow  served  in  turn  as  professors  in 
the  University,  and  gave  an  unacademic  quality 
to  their  teaching.  Agassiz,  the  inspired  Swiss,  was 


SETTLING  DOWN  43 

making  discoveries  in  natural  history  as  entrancing 
as  fairy  tales. 

Less  commanding  than  these  three,  but  still  great 
personages  in  Cambridge  were  the  older  members 
of  the  Harvard  faculty — James  Walker,  the  Presi 
dent;  Francis  Bowen,  the  vehement  philosopher 
and  economist;  Cornelius  C.  Felton,  the  Grecian; 
Edward  T.  Channing,  the  Professor  of  Rhetoric; 
Joseph  Lovering,  the  physicist;  Asa  Gray,  the  mas 
ter  botanist;  Benjamin  Peirce,  the  foremost  of 
American  mathematicians;  and  Jeffries  Wyman, 
the  anatomist.  Jared  Sparks,  ex-President,  had  re 
cently  given  up  his  professorship  of  History,  and 
his  predecessor,  the  versatile  Edward  Everett,  con 
tinued  as  an  Overseer  of  the  College. 

The  younger  group  numbered  several  members 
destined  soon  to  take  the  lead  in  their  respective 
fields:  Francis  J.  Child  in  English,  George  M.  Lane 
in  Latin,  Josiah  P.  Cooke  in  Chemistry,  William 
W.  Goodwin  in  Greek,  and  Charles  W.  Eliot. 

Life  in  Cambridge  was  perforce  simple,  because 
it  was  automatically  regulated  by  the  salaries  of  the 
professors,  which  were  small.  You  dined  at  three 
in  the  afternoon,  and  you  had  a  frugal  supper  at 
seven.  Few  of  the  academic  folk  could  afford  to 
keep  a  carriage;  but  hospitality — which  can  thrive 
on  a  very  slender  purse,  because  it  springs  from  the 
heart  and  not  from  the  purse  —  did  not  lack. 

Unattached  to  the  University,  were  Boston  law 
yers  or  merchants,  who  found  a  congenial  residence 


44  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

in  Cambridge.  Nor  should  we  forget  the  retired 
professors,  or  their  widows  and  families,  who  shed 
upon  the  new  generation  the  fading  glories  of  their 
earlier,  happier  prime.  A  social  philosopher  might 
have  wondered  at  the  tendency  of  those  families  to 
split  up  into  clusters  of  two  or  three  unmarried 
sisters  each,  whom  their  friends  called,  without 
disrespect,  "girls,"  no  matter  how  advanced  their 
age.  They  helped  to  lend  to  the  place  intellect 
ual  and  social  quaintnesses  that  reminded  you  of 
"Cranford." 

John  Holmes  slipped  in  and  out  of  these  various 
strata,  having  companions  in  each  and  observing  all 
much  more  closely  than  they  perhaps  suspected. 
He  followed  the  lives  of  his  friends  so  sympatheti 
cally  that  what  happened  to  them  were  events  in  his 
own  life.  Above  all,  he  cared  for  the  welfare  of  his 
mother,  the  little  old  lady  of  fourscore  and  upward 
whose  animation  seemed  undiminished. 

The  interest  which  formed  the  mainstay  of  his 
social  diversions,  and  to  which  he  most  frequently 
alludes,  was  the  Whist  Club.  This  consisted  of 
himself  and  Lowell,  Dr.  Estes  Howe  and  Robert 
Carter.  Dr.  Howe  had  been  a  classmate  of  his  at 
Harvard,  had  studied  medicine,  and  had  migrated 
to  Cincinnati,  where  he  practiced  a  short  time,  and 
then  abandoned  his  profession  for  a  business  career. 
Returning  to  Cambridge,  he  married  for  his  second 
wife  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Lowell.  Carter  was  born  at 
Albany  the  same  year  as  Lowell.  His  parents  were 


THE   WHIST   CLUB 
John  Holmes,  Estes  Howe,  Robert  Carter,  and  James  Russell  Lowell 


SETTLING  DOWN  45 

Roman  Catholics,  but,  after  attending  a  Catholic 
school  for  a  year,  at  fifteen,  he  became  a  Sweden- 
borgian.  On  coming  to  Cambridge  he  assisted 
Lowell  in  editing  the  Pioneer,  a  short-lived  literary 
magazine  of  which  Lowell  was  the  editor.  When 
this  failed,  he  secured  a  position  as  clerk  in  the 
Cambridge  post  office.  Next,  he  was  secretary  to 
Prescott,  the  historian;  then,  editor  of  the  Com 
monwealth,  a  Boston  weekly  newspaper;  and  so, 
with  journalism,  politics,  and  high-grade  hack-writ 
ing  for  the  publishers,  he  led  a  varied  existence. 
In  1854  he  called  a  meeting  at  Worcester  which 
resulted  in  the  formation  of  the  Republican  Party 
in  Massachusetts.  He  was  a  comrade  whom  Lowell 
and  Holmes  found  most  friendly  and  entertaining. 
The  members  of  the  Club  met,  in  turn,  at  each 
other's  houses,  played  their  game,  and  then  re 
galed  themselves  with  supper.  Only  the  most 
urgent  call  kept  them  from  their  appointment  at 
the  Club,  and  then  one  of  two  or  three  substitutes 
filled  the  vacant  place.  Henry  Ware,  the  youngest 
of  these,  was  the  son  of  William  Ware,  whose  novel, 
"Zenobia,"  won  great  popularity  in  the  United 
States  and  England  and  is  still  reprinted.  John 
Bartlett,  another  of  the  group,  was  connected  with 
the  prosperous  publishing  house  of  Little  & 
Brown  in  Boston.  He  resided  in  Cambridge  and 
devoted  his  leisure  moments  to  compiling  a  volume 
of  "Familiar  Quotations,"  the  first  edition  of  which 
appeared  in  1855. 


46  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

All  these  men  had  much  in  common  —  an  appre 
ciation  of  humor,  a  love  of  books  and  mellowness, 
and  individual  hobbies  which  made  them  interest 
ing  to  themselves  and  to  their  fellows.  From 
Holmes's  letters  we  might  infer  that  they  were 
epicures,  but  their  epicurism  was  innocent,  and 
their  relish  for  a  dish  or  for  a  bottle  of  "the  rosy" 
seems  to  have  been  an  echo  of  the  talk  of  bygone 
clubmen  in  books.  The  importance  of  their  little 
circle,  especially  for  Holmes,  lay  in  the  fact  that 
it  afforded  the  best  conditions  for  strengthening 
friendship. 

THE  GOLIATH  TITTLE  LETTERS 

Mr.  Holmes  was  always  very  fond  of  children  and 
he  went  about  among  the  little  sons  and  daugh 
ters  of  his  friends  like  a  fairy  godfather,  distribut 
ing  shiny  dimes  and  quarters,  telling  wonderful 
stories  and  playing  strange,  amusing  parts.  In 
the  series  of  letters  which  follow  he  pretended  to  be 
Goliath  Tittle,  a  sailor  from  Kennebunk.  He  wrote 
them  to  his  nephew  Edward  Holmes,  the  younger 
son  of  the  Doctor.  The  boy  was  born  in  1847. 

NORTH  PENNY  ROYAL  WEST  PARRISH  MASS. 

September  14,  1853. 
DEAR  NED 

It  seems  a  long  while  since  I  wrote  to  you  for 
then  I  remember  I  wore  jacket  and  trousers  all  of 
a  piece  and  now  Ive  wore  regulur  pants  &  boots  for 


THE   GOLIATH  TITTLE  LETTERS  47 

ever  so  long.  I  wore  straps  a  little  but  busted  em 
playing  of  football  and  afterwards  old  Grouts  dog 
eat  the  football,  case  and  all  and  it  made  him 
plagey  sick.  I  staid  Commencement  time  at  Cam 
bridge  with  Joe  Dunster  and  we  had  a  first  rate 
time  but  I  got  sick  they  said  it  was  eating  water- 
mellens  and  oysters  before  diner,  and  peaches  after 
ward  and  custards,  but  I  guess  it  was  some  green 
apples  that  I  eat  after  breakfast  and  drank  a  lot  of 
milk  after  em  but  I  had  to  take  eppikak  and  lots  of 
rubub  and  I  tell  you  what  I  didnt  hardly  know 
who  I  was  for  two  or  three  days.  They  kept  me 
short  of  eating  for  ever  so  long  and  I  eat  up  a  whole 
lout  of  bread  that  I  found  in  the  house  and  it  didnt 
hurt  me  any.  I  guess  that  I  shall  be  a  carpenter 
it  is  real  good  fun  a  planing,  while  the  carpenters 
was  gone  home  to  diner  the  other  day  that  are 
working  at  our  house  I  planed  a  good  deal  but  they 
said  I  spoiled  the  plane  and  the  folks  had  to  pay 
for  it  ever  so  much  and  a  little  saw  too  that  I 
ground  to  sharpen  it  and  they  said  they  should 
take  it  all  out  of  my  allowance  which  I  have  f opence 
a  week.  I  go  a  fishing  here  and  caught  an  eel  the 
other  day  but  he  bit  my  hook  off  so  that  I  could 
not  get  him.  I  should  like  to  go  a  shooteing  theres 
a  great  many  chip  birds  about  here  but  the  folks 
wont  let  me  Ive  got  a  real  fine  bowarrer  it  shoots 
like  anything  and  I  broke  a  great  decanter  with  it 
the  other  day  that  was  on  the  edge  of  the  winder 
just  washed  ever  so  far  off  I  did  n't  think  I  should 


48  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

hit  it  but  it  did  and  broke  it  all  to  smash,  and  I 
got  a  hiding  for  it  and  the  folks  say  it  must  come 
out  of  my  allowance.  Billy  Bumpus  has  been  to 
the  Cristall  Pallas  with  his  father  and  he  says  he 
got  lost  and  took  up  by  the  polis  and  carried  to  the 
watchhouse  and  there  was  a  man  give  him  some 
apples  and  his  father  come  and  took  him  out  and 
give  him  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  he  says  he  had  a  fust 
rate  time  and  tried  to  get  lost  agin  but  he  couldent 
somehow  I  go  to  school  now  again  and  we  have 
Banks  in  the  school  which  we  keep  in  our  desks  I 
and  Jerry  Battles  had  one  for  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  but  the  master  took  all  the  bills  away 
and  give  Jerry  a  hiding  because  his  name  was  on 
the  bills  for  Pressident  I  broke  three  squares  of 
glass  at  the  Schoolhouse  the  other  day  trying  to 
pull  little  Tom  Twiggs  in  to  the  winder  and  the 
master  give  me  a  hiding  and  told  the  folks  and  they 
had  to  pay  thirty  seven  cents  a  square  and  it,  all 
got  to  come  out  of  my  allowance.  I  havent  had 
any  money  for  a  good  while  and  I  offered  to  tend 
cows  after  school  for  old  Mr.  Goathorn  the  town 
driver  and  he  promised  to  give  me  some  money 
sometime,  but  just  as  quick  as  he  was  out  of  sight 
Corners  red  cow  she  run  after  me  and  chased  me 
and  catched  me  under  the  jacket  with  her  horns 
just  as  I  was  agetting  over  the  fence  and  tore  it 
putty  bad,  but  Tom  Twiggs  and  Jerry  Battles  and 
I  stoned  her  for  it  afterwards 
I  should  have  wrote  to  you  before  but  the  other 


THE    GOLIATH   TITTLE   LETTERS          49 

day  I  and  Tom  and  Jerry  fought  a  humbly  bees 
nest  and  we  all  got  stung  about  the  eyes  so  that  we 
could  n't  see  for  putty  near  a  week 

My  mother  says  she  should  like  to  have  you  come 
and  see  us 

Yours  truly 

GOLIATH  TITTLE. 

ISLAND  OF  BOOGUS,  Long  171  Lat  9X 

Sept.  6,  1854. 
MY  DEAR  EDWARD, 

I  went  out  from  Kennebunk  on  another  voyage 
and  was  Ship  wracked  and  cast  on  Boogus  Island 
where  I  now  am.  They  are  very  clever  folks  on 
this  island  only  they  don't  wear  much  clothes  and 
eat  each  other  a  good  deal,  which  they  are  very- 
good  eatting  as  I  no  having  been  obleeged  to  assist 
at  a  good  many  feests.  I  was  tatood  once  afore 
being  ketched  by  the  lousys  in  the  South  Attlan- 
tic,  and  they  tattood  me  in  round  figgers  but  the 
Boogus  Islanders  they  tattood  square  so  that  I  had 
toe  be  dun  allover  agin  which  throwd  me  into  a 
high  feever  being  Very  painfull,  which  I  am  now 
all  well  and  look  very  curious.  Tuesdays  and  Fri 
days  wee  have  to  fight  the  Popo  men  which  comes 
over  to  steal  our  folks  on  those  days  and  we  have  a 
pretty  smart  time  using  clubs  &  kobags  and  titis 
and  stones. 

I  hope  to  come  home  next  year  if  I  can  only  get 
on  board  of  a  vessel. 


50  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  send  you  some  toppo  shells  which  they  make 
pappaws  of  and  hope  you  will  like  them. 

I  'm  dreadful  tired  of  bread  fruit  which  is  not  like 
bread  hardly  at  all. 

If  you  See  Hercules  or  Og  give  my  love  to  them 
Your  friend 

GOLIATH  TITTLE 

WISCASSET  Sept.  15,  1854. 
MY  DEER  EDWARD 

It  is  now  a  long  whil  sens  I  have  wrote  too  you ; 
sens  whic  time  I  have  grode  very  tal  and  bigg  but  I 
have  not  had  no  scholeing  skersly  on  account  of 
haveng  ben  to  sea  pritty  nere  oil  the  time  sens 
and  find  it  exseding  hard  for  to  spel  alsoe  having 
been  so  much  in  forren  parts  where  they  speaks  so 
defferint.  I  ran  a  little  whil  cabing  boy  in  a  slupe 
from  Wiscasset  to  Bosten  and  one  trip  we  put  in 
ter  Gloshister  and  I  staid  ashore  and  let  the  vessel 
go  on,  and  I  heern  they  threaten  soe  about  walup- 
ping  uf  me  if  they  could  ketch  me  thet  I  kem  to 
Boston  on  foote  and  got  Aunt  Robbens  to  git  me  a 
berth  with  Capting  Crowder  of  the  Ship  Dead 
lights  which  as  I  found  arterwards  hed  olways  been 
very  onlucky.  This  Capting  fell  into  a  way  of 
knocking  me  down  after  breakfast,  which  tuffened 
me  a  good  deal,  and  I  grode  very  fast,  and  the 
Capting  put  his  shoulder  out  down  the  hatch  and 
I  got  along  with  the  mate  fust  rate,  and  we  got 
amung  the  ilands  in  the  Persific,  and  the  Cappen 


THE    GOLIATH   TITTLE   LETTERS          51 

he  was  ashore  with  the  bote  one  day  at  the  Fegees 
and  they  cotch  him  and  made  a  rost  of  him  and  ett 
him  along  with  two  of  the  crew.  Well  upon  this  we 
up  anker  and  made  off,  and  wee  kum  to  another 
iland  and  traded,  and  I  went  off  with  Joseph 
Grummitt  of  Squam  for  to  see  the  island  and  we 
got  took  prizoners  and  was  carried  diiferant  ways 
by  them  that  took  us.  I  should  er  had  a  fust  rate 
time,  plenty  of  benarners  &  breadfruit  and  every 
thing  but  they  would  have  me  tatooed,  and  as  they 
had  got  kind  er  fond  of  me  they  would  have  it  done 
in  fust  rate  style,  and  I  never  see  the  like  afore  — 
they  war  two  hours  a  day  for  six  weeks  making  all 
kinds  of  figgers  of  man  &  beast  and  bird  on  my  unf  or- 
tunit  hyde  with  a  thing  like  a  fine  tooth  comb  which 
they  drove  into  me  and  then  rubbed  in  the  ink;  you 
might  a  hearn  me  anywheres  within  a  league  it 
hurt  so  and  it  throad  me  into  a  high  fever  and  I  was 
sore  for  two  months;  well  bye  and  bye  they  set  me 
over  to  a  another  tribe  and  this  tribe  talked  of  tat 
tooing  me  agin  in  their  fashion  which  was  different 
and  I  run  away  and  hid  by  the  shore  and  see  a  ship 
and  made  signals  and  was  took  off  amost  starved  — 
Well  I  served  as  mariner  aboard  this  ship  for  about 
six  months,  and  while  she  lay  at  San  Francisco  I 
went  up  to  the  mines  and  dug  five  hundred  dollars 
worth  of  gold  and  then  I  cum  back  to  the  ship  and 
I  foun  she  warnt  ready  to  sail  and  I  bought  a  wheel- 
barrer,  and  used  to  be  porter  and  made  fourty 
dollars  a  day  for  a  month,  and  then  I  cum  home  in 


52  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

the  ship  to  New  York  the  name  of  her  was  the 
Harricane.  So  I  cum  back  to  Wiscasset,  and  they 
was  terrible  glad  fur  to  see  me,  but  felt  dredful  bad 
about  the  tattoos  which  made  me  look  like  all  git 
out  as  they  say.  Well  I  put  my  money  in  the  bank 
twelve  hundred  dollars,  and  about  a  week  after  I 
cum  home,  a  man  comes  and  offers  me  from  Mr. 
Barnum  $500.  dollars  for  six  months  for  an  exhibi 
tion,  for  a  wild  Tongarree  man  but  I  wouldnt  do 
it  and  I  have  been  to  Mr.  Hayes  the  Kimmist,  and 
he  says  he  can  take  the  tattoos  out  of  me  for  one 
hunderd  dollers.  If  I  can  get  em  out  I  am  going  to 
school  for  to  get  some  larnin  and  if  I  cant  I  guess  I 
shall  go  to  sea  agin.  If  you  come  to  Wiscasset  111 
give  you  some  shells  and  an  Injun  batt  that  they 
knock  f olkses  brains  out  with  —  And  am 

Yours  truly 

GOLIATH  TITTLE 

KENNEBUNK  PORT  Sept.  14,  1855. 
MY  DEAR  NED, 

I  have  been  a  sailing  for  some  time  out  of  Glos- 
sishter,  Gape  Ann  in  the  Sloop  Tremendous  of 
40  tun  a  carrying  of  ballist  to  Boston.  We  most 
generilly  git  folks  to  discharge  it  from  the  vessel  so 
that  I  have  had  a  putty  good  chance  to  go  about 
and  see  the  town  likewise  for  to  go  into  the  coun 
try.  About  a  fortnite  ago  I  went  to  the  Museum 
to  see  the  curriosities,  but  I  found  that  I  had  seed 
prittey  much  all  of  em  in  forren  parts  where  Ive 


THE   GOLIATH   TITTLE   LETTERS          53 

been.  They  had  a  shark  there  about  fifteen  foot 
long  that  they  seemed  to  think  a  good  deal  of  — 
why  Ive  Seen  em  off  in  the  Pessific  two  and  thirty 
foot  long  easy  —  and  there  was  one  that  eat  our 
cook  up  when  I  was  aboard  of  the  Albertross  at  the 
Fogaroo  Islands  that  was  forty  foot  clear  from  his 
catheads  to  his  tafferl —  for  we  kotch  him  wihin 
an  hour  arterwards  and  meassherd  him  and  we 
found  the  cook  a  laying  in  him  just  as  comfertable 
as  ef  it  was  his  bunk,  and  we  should  ha  hed  him  on 
duty  agin  if  the  shark  hednt  accidently  a  bit  him 
right  through  the  head  in  swallerin  him  on  account 
as  we  supposed  of  his  woollen  cap  which  kind  of 
shoked  him.  Then  they  had  kinnoos  that  I  didnt 
think  nothing  of,  for  Ive  owned  twice  as  putty  ones, 
when  I  was  a  prisoner  among  the  Shagmarac  is 
lands  to  the  Cannyballs  I  believe  I  told  you  before 
in  a  letter  that  I  had  been  prisoner  to  the  Canny- 
balls  as  I  have  been  in  various  places,  and  they  al 
ways  treated  me  well  —  I  have  n't  got  a  word  to 
say  aginst  em  —  but  they  was  dreadful  fond  of 
eating  one  another  as  I  told  you  before.  If  a  Shag- 
maracker  catched  a  Teef oo  man  or  a  Teefoo  man 
catched  a  Shagmaracker  it  was  all  day  with  em 
right  off  —  theyd  fat  em  up  a  little  if  they  was 
lean  but  if  they  wasn't  why  just  give  em  a  knock  or 
two  with  them  kobags,  and  then  invite  the  com 
pany  to  come  about  three  hours  after  to  the  chum 
chum  or  feast  —  The  museum  man  was  so  tickled 
with  my  tattooing  that  he  wanted  for  to  hire  me 


54  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

for  a  curiosity,  but  I  wouldnt  —  I  dont  make  a 
great  deal  of  money  but  I  ant  going  to  exhibit  any 
how.  There  was  a  man  up  at  Boston  told  me  I 
might  make  a  good  living  a  going  round  amongst 
the  ministery  and  others  for  a  reformed  canniball 
but  I  told  Em  I  wouldnt  do  no  such  a  thing  as  to 
go  and  cheat  for  a  living.  The  last  trip  as  I  made 
from  Glossishter  I  brought  a  kind  of  venter  with 
me  a  lot  of  woollen  socks  that  I  bot  cheap  down 
here  to  the  Cape,  and  I  set  out  to  sell  em  in  Boston, 
and  I  did  sell  some  of  em  to  a  pritty  good  proffit 
but  I  see  so  many  poor  folks  without  stockings  that 
I  give  a  good  many  away  so  that  I  didn't  make 
much.  I  went  out  to  Cambridge  one  day  cos  I 
wanted  to  enquire  after  your  grandmother  and  I 
found  her  first  rate,  and  she  give  me  a  piece  of  cake 
and  seemed  to  pity  me  a  good  deal  because  Id  been 
tattooed,  and  made  me  a  present  of  a  quarter  of  a 
dollar.  She  told  me  that  she  had  just  heerd  from 
her  son  Wendell  to  Louisville  and  he  was  very  well, 
and  she  asked  me  how  I  used  to  feel  to  be  so  fur 
away  from  Kennebunk,  and  I  told  her  I  got  putty 
much  used  to  it  but  everyonce  in  a  while  I  wanted 
to  See  the  folks  to  home.  She  asked  me  if  I  ever 
wrote  letters  home  and  I  told  her  that  I  didn't 
have  no  chance,  and  she  said  that  she  had  a  daugh 
ter  in  law  and  a  granddaughter  that  wrote  her 
beautiful  letters  out  of  the  country  and  she  desired 
to  be  thinkful.  I  want  to  See  you  Edward  but  I  am 
all  the  time  a  sailing  to  and  fro  —  Hercules  my 


THE    GOLIATH   TITTLE   LETTERS          55 

brother  says  he  should  like  to  see  you  —  hes  grown 
tremendous  tall  and  big  and  expects  to  go  a  lum 
bering  next  winter.  I  give  him  a  pair  of  boots  that 
I  bout  of  a  Dutchman  when  I  sailed  in  the  Zwei 
Brudern  which  was  a  Lubec  ship  that  I  met  with 
in  the  Pessifick 

The  other  day  I  met  Lok  Strom  a  Norweggan 
that  I  used  to  know  to  Valparaso  when  we  put  in 
in  the  Billowbreaker  in  distress  which  was  the 
most  onlucky  ship  I  ever  see  afterward  lost  on 
Joggle  reef  crew  saved  —  He  and  I  think  of  taking 
a  Chebacco  bout  and  trading  along  shore  —  Ive 
got  a  little  money  in  the  Kennebunk  Savings  Bank 
and  he  is  very  forehanded  I  guess  hes  got  as  much 
as  two  hundred  dollars  and  ever  so  many  clothes  — 
Give  my  kind  regards  to  all  your  folks 

Yours  truly 

G.  T. 


AT  SEA  (about  Sept.  27,  1855). 
OFF  GLOSISHTER 
1210  Sea  Time 
MY  DEAR  NED, 

I  tell  you  I  was  pleggy  sorry  not  to  hev  writ  you 
a  letter  last  week.  Me  and  my  pardner  that  I  told 
you  of  has  been  doing  a  real  good  bisiness;  we  got  a 
real  good  hand  to  go  before  the  mast.  Bill  Butters; 
he  was  born  down  to  Quoddy  the  yeer  of  the  great 
gale,  and  says  hes  always  been  fond  of  hard  weather 
from  his  cradle;  —  started  on  the  Penobscot  in  his 


56  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

mothers  bread  trough  at  eight  years  old  and  got 
wracked  and  nigh  drownded;  then  agin  when  he 
was  fourteen  he  started  to  go  to  the  West  Indys  in 
a  dory  thinking  it  was  much  nigher  than  what  it  is 
and  he  got  putty  nigh  starved  that  time  and  was 
picked  up  by  the  Dromedary  and  carried  to  Hong 
Kong  and  round  the  world,  and  after  that  went  to 
sea  reglar  for  a  living,  and  he  got  a  lick  on  his  hand 
of  a  block  his  last  vyage  that  give  him  a  weeping 
sinner,  and  he  wants  to  heal  it  up  and  so  he  goes 
with  us  which  gives  him  a  better  chance  and  works 
fust  rate  with  a  pitch  plaster  on  the  back  of  his  left 
hand  So  Im  Cap  tin  and  my  pardner  he's  mate  and 
Bill  Butters  he's  the  crew,  and  we  make  the  che- 
baccer  boat  go  I  tell  you  Ned  Holmes.  Well,  weve 
been  doing  a  real  good  business  along  shore  —  I 
bought  a  lot  of  taters  down  at  Machias  and  we 
made  seventy  two  dollars  on  em  at  Porchmith 
Then  I  bought  a  lot  of  jugs  in  Salem  —  cheap  two 
tons  of  em  and  run  round  the  cape  for  Rode  Hand 
just  before  the  Maine  law  got  agoing  there  and  we 
made  eighty-four  dollars  on  the  jugs,  and  I  carried 
4  tun  of  onions  from  Boston  down  to  Machias 
where  they  was  verry  skerse  and  made  one  hun- 
derd  dollars  on  them  —  So  you  see  Ned  Im  doing 
real  well  and  we  think  we  may  get  a  skooner  some 
of  these  days  and  take  Hercules  for  a  cabin  boy 

I  heerd  the  other  day  that  your  father  was  a 
coming  home  today  and  I  am  real  glad  for  it  must 
be  drefful  a  going  so  fur  away  from  home  on  land 


THE    GOLIATH   TITTLE   LETTERS          57 

Since  I  writ  to  you  Ive  been  in  Boston  agin  and  I 
got  lost  and  there  wasn't  nobody  that  would  tell 
me  the  way  right  so  I  kept  working  to  windward, 
up  a  street  and  then  a  little  way  along  (for  the 
streets  dont  run  into  one  another  as  they  do  at 
Pekin  and  Canton  and  Calcutty  and  other  places) 
and  I  was  putty  sure  of  coming  to  the  water  be- 
cos  the  wind  was  right  out  East  —  but  I  suppose 
the  wind  had  veered  for  I  finally  worked  down 
to  Cambridge  Bridge  —  so  I  steered  right  out  to 
Cambridge  and  went  to  see  your  grandmother  and 
she  is  fust  rate  and  give  me  a  piece  of  cake  and  a 
little  cardboard  so  as  to  go  free  in  the  ommibuss 
which  is  along  fore  and  aft  sort  of  a  coach,  now 
you  see  if  I  had  a  been  at  sea  why  I  could  just  a 
looked  at  the  compass  and  could  a  see  in  a  minnit 
what  the  way  was  that  I  wanted  for  to  go. 

Wednesday  morning  Glosishter  Harbor.  —  I  am 
considabel  at  lesshure  this  morning  becos  we  cant 
get  up  to  the  wharf  till  the  tide  turns.  I  do  hope 
your  father  has  got  home  I  see  him  once  when  he 
come  down  on  board  the  ship  Tightus  Andromi- 
cus  a  laying  at  Centerl  Wharf  and  perhaps  he'll 
recollect  me  —  Bill  Butters  reads  his  Bible  every 
Sunday  in  the  forenoon  watch  on  deck  weather  per 
mitting,  and  always  pinting  along  the  verses  with 
a  sail  needle  which  in  case  all  hands  is  called  he 
lays  in  the  leaves  and  makes  fast,  the  book  with 
a  little  rope  yarn  thats  wove  through  the  cover  — 


58  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

He's  got  picters  of  whales  in  the  fust  and  last 
leaves  that  he  helped  take  aboard  the  Nathaniel 
Folger  and  other  ships  also  little  memorandy,  writ 
in  signs  and  picters  of  places  that  he  stopped  at 
and  wracks  that  hes  been  through,  and  you  can  see 
the  marks  of  the  salt-water  on  the  kivers  of  the 
book.  Hes  got  a  good  many  funny  ways  with  him 
leastwise  what  youd  think  funny  alwers  brings  up 
an  old  quadrant  a  Sundays  and  takes  an  observa 
tion  or  pretends  to  tho  there  aint  but  one  glass  in 
it  and  dont  love  to  be  joked  about  it  and  pretends 
not  to  understand.  He  is  dredful  proud  of  his  sea 
clothes  of  which  he's  got  a  sight —  But  the  tides 
turned  and  I  must  conclude  with  love  to  you  all 
and  perticuler  respect  to  your  pa  and  mar 

Yours  truly 

GOLIATH  T. 

Ive  got  a  pair  of  sharkskin  boots  that  we  took 
from  Shakarak  one  of  the  cheefs  of  the  Goby  men 
which  used  to  come  to  fight  with  us  at  the  Fogaroo 
islands  that  I  should  like  to  give  you  but  they  are 
a  sight  too  big  for  you  —  they  are  dredful  warm 
things  becos  they  are  lined  with  Fogaroo  scalps 
with  the  fur  out  and  their  hair  is  dredful  thick 
and  furry.  There  was  a  man  come  aboard  at  Bos 
ton  and  asked  me  for  em  for  the  peace  Societys 
museum  but  I  thot  he  might  be  one  of  Barnums 
men  tho  he  moutent  either  and  wouldnt  let  him 
have  em  and  he  begged  putty  hard  and  Bill  Butters 


SETTLING  DOWN  59 

he  was  a  slushing  the  mast  and  he  let  his  slush  pot 
fall  accidently  right  on  the  manshead  so  that  he 
had  to  go  right  home  to  get  cleaned  up  — Bill 
wants  the  boots  I  guess  but  dont  like  to  ask  for  em. 
If  your  par  wants  the  boots  you  tell  him  to  drop  a 
line  to  Captin  Jake  Souther  at  Glosshter  and  hell 
let  me  know  and  111  send  em  round  by  sea  so  as  they 
can  go  up  the  Kenneticut  by  boat,  and  then  you 
can  get  em  with  a  little  land  kerrige. 


With  no  fixed  occupation,  John  Holmes  joyfully 
gave  his  services  to  good  works.  One  of  these  is 
mentioned  by  Charles  Eliot  Norton.  "I  think  it 
was  between  '46  and  '49,"  he  says  .  .  .  "that  I  got 
permission  from  the  city  government  of  Cambridge 
to  use  the  schoolhouse,  then  standing  in  Garden 
Street,  for  a  night  school  for  men  and  boys.  It  was 
the  first  night  school  opened  in  Cambridge,  and, 
as  far  as  I  know,  the  first  of  the  kind  in  Massachu 
setts.  I  had  many  excellent  volunteer  assistants, 
among  them  John  Holmes  (the  brother  of  the 
poet),  Child,  and  Sidney  Coolidge,  a  fellow  of 
heroic  quality  (devoted  to  the  memory  of  Napo 
leon),  and  who,  years  after,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Civil  War,  obtained  a  commission  from  the  United 
States  and  shortly  after  died  in  battle,  as  he  would 
have  wished."  l 

1  Letters  of  Charles  Eliot  Norton:  edited  by  Sara  Norton  and 
M.  A.  DeWolfe  Howe,  Boston,  1913;  vol.  i,  pp.  26, 27. 


60  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Lowell  came  back  from  Europe  in  the  summer 
of  1856,  and  began  teaching  at  Harvard.  With  his 
return  the  Whist  Club  revived,  much  to  the  satis 
faction  of  Holmes.  They  stimulated  each  other  in 
fun.  In  a  letter  to  Miss  Norton,  dated  August  12, 
1861,  Lowell  tells  of  a  frolic  which  he  arranged  in 
honor  of  his  humorous  friend. 

"Two  important  events  have  taken  place  lately, 
which  I  shall  mention  in  the  order  of  their  respec 
tive  greatness.  1st.  The  Agricultural  Festival;  2d. 
The  election  of  Mayor.  And  now  of  the  Cerealia. 
(Don't  confound  this  with  Serialia  and  suppose  I 
have  taken  up  the  Atlantic  again.)  You  must  know 
that  Cambridge  boasts  of  two  distinguished  farm 
ers  —  Mr.  John  Holmes  of  Holmes  Place,  and  him 
who  would  be,  in  a  properly  constituted  order  of 
things,  the  Marquess  of  Thompson  Lot  with  a  p. 
The  marquess,  fearing  that  (since  Squire  Holmes 
cultivated  his  own  estate  with  his  own  hands  and  a 
camp-stool)  his  rival  might  be  in  want  of  food  and 
too  proud  to  confess  it,  generously  resolved  to  give 
him  a  dinner,  which,  to  save  his  feelings,  he  adroitly 
veiled  under  the  pretence  of  an  Agricultural  Festi 
val  and  Show  of  Vegetables.  Dr.  Howe  and  Mr. 
Storey  were  the  other  guests, '  when '  (as  the  Annual 
Register  would  say)  'the  following  vegetables  were 
served  up  with  every  refinement  of  the  culinary 
art.'  1,  Eggplants;  2,  Squash;  3,  Beets;  4,  Carrots; 
5,  Potatoes;  6,  Tomatoes;  7,  Turnips;  8,  Beans; 


SETTLING  DOWN  61 

9,  Corn;  10,  Cucumbers;  (and  not  exhibited,  partly 
out  of  modesty  and  partly  for  want  of  suitable 
dishes,  but  alluded  to  modestly  from  time  to  time) 
11,  Cabbages;  12,  Salsify.  Of  fruits  there  was  a 
variety,  also  from  the  estate,  consisting  chiefly  of 
1,  Raspberries,  and  2,  Blackberries.  Cider,  also 
from  the  estate,  was  kept  back  out  of  tenderness 
to  the  guests,  and  because  there  was  home-made 
vinegar  in  the  casters.  'After  the  cloth  was  re 
moved,'  the 'chairman  rose,  and  with  suitable  so 
lemnity  gave  the  first  regular  toast — 'Speed  the 
Plough.'  This  was  acknowledged  by  Mr.  Holmes 
in  a  neat  speech.  He  said  that  'he  felt  himself  com 
pletely  squashed  by  the  abundance  before  him. 
That,  as  there  was  nothing  wanting,  so  nothing 
could  be  marked  with  a  caret  A  •  That  Micawber 
himself  would  have  been  pleased  with  the  turnups, 
than  which  who  nose  anything  more  charmingly 
retrousse?  That  he  could  say  with  the  great  Julius, 
Veni,  vidi,  vici,  I  came,  and  saw  a  beet.  That  he 
could  but  stammer  his  astonishment  at  a  board  so 
cu-cumbered  with  delicacies.  That  he  envied  the 
potatoes  their  eyes  to  look  on  such  treasures.  That 
the  Tom-martyrs  were  worthy  the  best  ages  of  the 
Church,  and  fit  successors  of  St.  Thomas.  That 
with  such  corn  who  would  not  be  a  toemartyr? 
That  he  hoped  no  one  would  criticise  his  remarks 
in  a  punkintilious  spirit.'  This,  as  you  will  imag 
ine,  is  quite  an  adequate  report  of  the  remarks 
he  might  have  made.  The  dinner  went  off  with 


62  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

great  good  humor  and  we  had  cards  in  the  even 
ing.  .  .  . 

"Your  affectionate 

"THOMPSON  LOT"  l 

Old  jokes,  old  puns  have  a  way  of  losing  their 
savor,  and  to  appreciate  fully  Holmes' s  speech  we 
must  remember  the  occasion,  the  state  of  merri 
ment  to  which  he  and  Lowell  had  raised  the  little 
party  of  friends,  and  the  swiftness  with  which,  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment,  he  paid  his  respects  to 
the  vegetables.  In  devising  an  agricultural  dinner, 
Lowell,  the  Marquess  of  Thompson's  Lot,  displayed 
his  own  talent  for  fun. 

The  time  itself  bred  anxiety,  if  not  gloom,  in 
most  hearts.  The  disaster  of  Bull  Run,  occurring 
only  a  month  earlier,  filled  every  loyal  Unionist 
with  forebodings.  Lowell's  patriotism  was  known 
throughout  the  land ;  Holmes  in  his  quiet  way  was 
no  less  convinced  a  patriot. 

Only  a  week  later  he  suffered  the  greatest  pos 
sible  loss  in  the  death  of  his  mother.  Dr.  0.  W. 
Holmes  writes  to  Motley  on  August  29:  "My 
mother  died  on  the  19th  of  this  month  at  the  age  of 
ninety-three,  keeping  her  lively  sensibilities  and 
sweet  intelligence  to  the  last.  My  brother  John 
had  long  cared  for  her  in  the  most  tender  way,  and 
it  almost  broke  his  heart  to  part  with  her.  She  was 
a  daughter  to  him,  she  said,  and  he  had  fondly 

1  C.  E.  Norton:  Letters  of  J.  R.  Lowell;  vol.  I,  pp.  312-14. 


SETTLING  DOWN  63 

thought  that  love  and  care  could  keep  her  frail  life 
to  the  filling  up  of  a  century  or  beyond  it.  It  was 
a  pity  to  look  on  him  in  his  first  grief;  but  Time, 
the  great  consoler,  is  busy  with  his  anodyne,  and 
he  is  coming  back  to  himself." 1 

John  lived  on  in  the  old  house  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  the  brothers  sold  it  to  Harvard  College 
for  a  price  which  they  thought  too  good  to  be  re 
fused.  Then  he  moved  over  to  the  small  wooden 
dwelling  at  No.  5  Appian  Way,  which  an  old  fam 
ily  servant,  Mary  Tolman,  bought  with  her  sav 
ings.  There  she  acted  as  his  housekeeper,  tending 
him  as  carefully  as  she  knew  how  for  the  rest  of  his 
life. 

1  J.  T.  Morse,  Jr.:  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  (1896);  vol.  n,  pp.164-65. 


CHAPTER  III 

"A  RIGHT  LOCAL  MAN" 

JOHN  BARTLETT  had  now  become,  after  Lowell, 
Holmes's  most  intimate  friend  in  Cambridge,  and 
as  time  went  on,  and  Lowell  spent  many  years 
abroad,  Holmes  saw  more  and  more  of  him.  The 
latter  combined  the  ability  of  a  successful  merchant 
with  the  taste  of  a  literary  man.  In  order  to  pre 
pare  his  "Familiar  Quotations"  he  read  the  classics 
of  ancient  and  modern  literature;  he  spent  most  of 
his  leisure  during  the  last  third  of  his  working  life 
on  Shakespeare;  and  he  had  a  retentive  memory. 
Towards  the  end  of  1862  he  went  South,  as  a  vol 
unteer  paymaster  in  the  United  States  Navy. 

The  next  letters,  unusually  playful,  refer  to  his 
service  there. 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT  l 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  8,  1862. 
Toward  evening. 

MY  DEAR  J.  B., 

After  my  pleasant  dinner  on  board  the  Bibb,  I 
proceeded  to  Cambridge,  as  a  desolate  fragment  of 
the  once  glorious  Association  in  favor  of  the  Union 
of  which  you  were  another  member.  I  did  not  call 
at  your  house  until  the  next  evening,  thinking  the 

1  This  letter  is  in  very  bad  condition,  and  a  small  piece  of  it  is 
missing. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  65 

delay  would  be  acceptable.  As  I  passed  over  the 
Common  on  my  way  to  your  house  I  called  a  meet 
ing  at  the  centre  and  called  your  name;  there  be 
ing  no  reply  I  answered  in  a  loud  tone,  "Absent," 
and  mournfully  adjourned  for  want  of  a  quorum. 
I  hope  you  will  recognise  in  this  the  old  patriotism 
and  the  old  regard  unbroken  by  separation.  I  hope 
also  that  in  the  strict  adherence  to  form  you  will 
perceive  evidence  of  that  love  of  order,  indeed  of 
discipline,  which  has  heretofore  distinguished  the 
Association  and  at  times  has  led  it  to  assume  an 
almost  military  character.  (Note:  Do  we  not  both 
recollect  J.  B.  in  his  inimitable  personation  of  the 
well  drilled  recruit?)  Happily  for  me,  since  you 
went  I  have  been  obliged  to  travel  to  Boston  and 
back,  if  anything,  more  frequently  than  before,  and 
to  attend  to  items  of  business  [which],  with  my 
business  talents  and  habits,  appear  to  me  to  be 
numerous  and  laborious.  With  these  to  employ 
me,  and  a  great  deal  of  walking,  and  some  little 
change  in  my  social  habits  to  meet  the  exigency, 
I  have  got  along  rather  better  than  might  have 
been  expected;  I  have  however  had  to  train  myself 
somewhat,  perforce,  to  solitude.  I  have  thus  far 
told  you  about  myself.  I  will  now  tell  you  about 
you.  Mrs.  Bartlett  on  Saturday  evening  last  read 
to  me  in  full  family  conclave,  a  part  of  your  letter 
from  Port  Royal  —  when  she  came  to  the  senti 
mental  and  conjugal  part,  she  stopped  a  second, 
and  nimbly  skipped  it  all,  so  that  I  have  no  chance 


66  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

to  know  whether  you  write  with  the  proper  degree 
of  tenderness  or  not;  perhaps,  as  the  other  mem 
ber  of  the  Association,  I  ought  to  have  had  the 
whole  letter  submitted  to  my  notice,  that  I  might 
write  you  words  of  approval,  encouragement  or  re 
proof  —  but  we  won't  be  too  strict,  and  the  fam 
ily  were  all  present.  It  was  an  excellent  letter,  so 
much  of  it  as  I  heard,  and  worthy  the  author  of 
the  Quotations.  And  so  the  Paymaster  was  a  little 

sick  —  didn't  j  thro^up  I  ^s  wa^stcoa^  buttons 


or  jerk  the  gold  band  off  his  cap,  I  hope.  But  I  am 
afraid  that  under  a  playful  turn  of  phrase  you  con 
ceal  the  extent  of  your  suffering,  not  from  laudable 
[regard]  of  humanity  to  your  friends  but  from  a 
misplaced  pride.  I  shall  therefore  present  you  with 
a  probable  Deposition  of  the  Steward  as  supposed 
to  be  taken  at  Port  Royal. 

Qu.  1.  Was    Mr.    Bartlett    Ans.  1.  Yes  sir,  he  were. 
sick  on  the  passage 
to  Port  Royal? 

2.  At  what  time  did  he  2.  When  we  was  along- 
first  show  signs  of  side  the  Fort,  Sir. 
seasickness? 

3.  What  Fort?  3.  Fort  Independence, 

Sir. 

4.  What     made     you  4.  Coz  he  looked  white, 
think   him  sick  at  Sir,  and  said  the  su- 
that  time?                               gar  he  took  in  his 

coffee  that  morning 
didn't  agree  with  him 
and  said  he  felt  first 
rate  all  but  that. 


TO   JOHN  BARTLETT                     67 

Qu.  5.  Where  was  he  when  Ans.  5.  Down  below,  Sir. 
he  said  this? 

6.  Why    should    you  6.  Coz  they  all  says  so, 
think   him    seasick  Sir,  and  looks  kind 
when  he  said  he  was  er  white  Sir,  and  I  al 
so  well?  ways  gets  my  (sivat) 

ready  then,  Sir. 

7.  Where  did  you  see  7.  Leanin  over  the  rail, 
him  next?  Sir,  heavin  like  any 
thing. 

8.  When  did  you  first  8.  After  we  was  come 
see  him  on  deck  after  to    anchor,  Sir,    at 
this?  Port  Royal. 


What  do  you  think  of  that  as  a  specimen  of  what 
would  be  brought  out  by  close  examination?  If 
you  had  said  candidly,  "I  was  as  sick  as  a  dog  all 
the  way  to  Port  Royal,"  you  would  have  saved  me 
the  trouble  of  taking  this  deposition. 

I  enjoyed  your  meeting  with  Capt.  Conthoys, 
at  the  Naval  Constructor's  —  he  verified  all  that 
you  had  said  of  his  vivacity,  and  I  think  made 
your  account  pale  a  little  before  the  actual  fact. 
He  is  a  very  agreeable  man  too,  as  you  said.  In  my 
quiet  mode  of  life  I  have  not  so  much  to  tell  you  as 
I  could  wish,  even  respecting  our  familiar  Old  Cam 
bridge.  One  thing  I  can  say  about  it,  that  I  never 
knew  it  in  so  profound  a  state  of  tranquillity,  not 
to  say  stupor,  in  my  life,  at  any  rate  since  it  was 
the  little  hamlet  of  former  times.  None  of  the 
accustomed  sounds  are  heard  at  night  —  the  vocif 
erations  of  young  men  coming  down  jolly  from 


68  LETTERS  OF  JOHN   HOLMES 

Porter's  or  going  up  jolly  from  the  oyster  shops  — 
no  firebell,  for  the  incendiaries  have  gone  to  extin 
guish  the  flames  of  civil  war  —  no  dogs,  because 
they  have  nobody  and  nothing  to  bark  at,  and  the 
roosters  ceasing  to  hear,  the  dogs  have  stopped 
crowing. 

About  9J.  Since  writing  the  above  I  have  been 
over  to  your  house.  I  found  Mrs.  B.,  Mrs.  Dana 
and  Miss  Dana,  all  I  think  at  work  for  the  sol 
diers.  Capt.  Goodwin  bye-and-bye  came  down,  and 
very  shortly  after  Mrs.  Folsom  and  Miss  Charlotte 
McKean  came  in.  I  had  a  pleasant  call  of  it  till 
about  9,  when  I  departed  as  escort  to  Mrs.  F. 
and  her  sister,  whom  I  saw  safely  home.  I  went 
over  to  your  house  to  ask  about  my  letter,  which 
it  seems  I  commit  to  the  Boston  Office  tomorrow. 
I  have  thus  given  you  a  slight  sketch  of  my  eve 
ning.  I  ought  however  to  have  mentioned  that  be 
fore  I  went  to  your  house  I  purchased  a  Journal  at 
the  establishment,  paying  3 !  cents  for  the  same  — 
see  the  extortion  which  has  grown  since  you  left. 
You  must  write  me  your  personal  experience  and 
sensations  as  I  have  written  mine.  Tell  me  too 
whether  gingerbread,  which  I  advised  so  strongly, 
has  been  a  balm  to  your  afflicted  stomach.  Tell  me 
your  joys  and  your  woes  and  I  will  answer  to  the 
best  of  my  ability  in  the  name  of  the  Association. 
Tell  me  inter  alia  how  you  succeed  as  caterer,  and 
whether  you  find  considerable  leisure  on  board  the 
Bibb  —  how  the  pipe  works  in  a  Southern  climate. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  69 

Also,  as  writing  to  the  Association,  tell  me  how 
things  look  to  you  down  there  —  and  any  good  ex 
pectations  you  have  about  this  war  so  far  as  con 
sistent  with  the  profound  secrecy  which  has  been 
observed  about  our  movements. 

I  wish  you  all  sorts  of  a  pleasant  time  down 
there. 

Give  my  regards  to  Capt.  Boutelle.  As  I  left  the 
house  tonight  Mrs.  Bartlett  desired  me  to  send 
her  love  to  you,  which  I  hereby  do  and  expect  a 
receipt  by  your  next. 

Hoping  to  see  you  in  a  few  months  in  first  rate 
condition 

I  am  truly  your  friend 

P.S.  You  must  make  the  best  of  this  letter  that 
you  can;  when  you  write  me  I  shall  be  able  to 
reply  to  any  enquiry  or  to  any  train  of  thought  you 
may  suggest.  At  present  I  write  what  I  can  at 
random.  Good  night. 

Yrs  truly 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  21,  1863. 
MY  DEAR  J.  B., — 

It  is  high  time  that  you  should  hear  from  your 
old  friend  and  fellow  soldier,  J.  H.  You  would  have 
had  a  letter  from  me  much  earlier  but  for  the  con 
tinuance  of  what  I  denominate  business,  which  has 
kept  me  what  I  call  busy.  About  a  month  ago, 


70  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

in  the  height  of  this  so-called  activity,  I  twisted  the 
veteran  knee  a  little  with  the  slippery  walking  and 
forthwith  limped  in  a  style  I  never  had  before  — 
not  with  the  accustomed  infirmity,  but  a  strain 
where  the  knee-pan  is  fastened  on  —  on  the  side  — 
I  forthwith  began  to  fear  the  return  of  the  old 
affliction  —  was  obliged  to  stay  quiet  a  good  deal 
—  then  as  usual  my  eyes  got  overworked  and  I 
seemed  quite  in  the  doleful  condition  of  former 
times  —  not  giving  up  walking  but  able  to  do  little 
of  it.  However,  the  evil  has  passed  away  and  I  can 
go  a  mile  or  two  at  a  time  very  well,  and  I  must 
say  feel  in  better  spirits  to  write  a  letter  to  a  friend 
than  I  did  before.  So  you  see  I  have  begun  as  usual 
with  a  full  exposition  of  my  bodily  state  and  am 
now  ready  to  begin  with  narrative,  argument  or 
exhortation  as  the  case  may  require. 

And,  firstly,  let  me  acknowledge  the  receipt  of 
your  very  agreeable  letter,  also  of  your  very  cap 
ital  New  Year's  Gift,  and  thank  you  for  both.  I 
have  neither  given  nor  taken  much  this  New  Year. 
I  made  a  few  presents  of  trifles  to  children  and  no 
other  —  I  received  De  Tocqueville  from  you  first, 
and  a  nice  pipe  from  Charles  Parson's  wife,  second, 
and  am  content  —  nay,  thankful;  without  calcu 
lation  you  see,  I  have  made  a  gain;  this  is  the  rela 
tive  and  financial  view  which  you  and  I  as  philoso 
phers  and  speculatists  will  admit  argumentatively; 
but  really  I  have  received  two  tokens  from  two 
valued  friends  and  am  richer  by  a  value  that  cannot 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  71 

be  defined  under  the  head  of  $  and  cts.  My  habits 
have  been  a  good  deal  changed,  as  I  expected,  by 
your  departure.  No  more  free-and-easy  bachelor 
comings  and  goings.  When  I  call  now  I  cast  anchor 
and  accept  nothing  less  than  a  yawn  or  positive 
lethargy  as  a  signal  to  weigh.  My  evening  walks 
are  no  longer  the  circuitous  vague  ramblings  of  the 
past,  argumentative,  conversational,  land-measur 
ing,  fumigatory  —  but  hasty,  silent,  the  shortest 
line  between  two  points.  This  came  across  me  the 
other  night  in  a  lively  manner,  when  I  deviated  for 
exercise  from  my  direct  path  and  found  myself 
under  the  college  lamp  opposite  Stoughton.  A 
certain  military  discipline,  whose  force  you  and  I 
know,  held  me  up  and  I  plodded  sternly  on.  I 
sometimes  look  back  with  admiration  to  you  in 
your  attitude  of  highest  military  training,  which 
you  remember  you  occasionally  assumed  (say  in 
entering  a  door  or  scaling  a  flight  of  stairs).  Noth 
ing,  I  venture  to  say,  in  the  annals  of  military  art 
ever  surpassed  that. 

I  have  been  in  to  about  half  of  Charles  Norton's 
Lowell  lectures1  (historical),  which  ended  about  a 
fortnight  since,  quite  a  novelty  for  me,  and  a  very 
pleasant  one.  I  went  to  Salem  at  Thanksgiving  and 
dined  at  the  Fosters'  on  Christmas.  Club  has  gone 
on  with  its  usual  regularity  and  is  mine  this  week 
on  Friday.  During  Norton's  lectures,  which  Lowell 
attended,  we  had  Club  on  Wednesdays. 

1  On  "Characteristics  of  the  12th  Century." 


72  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  called  at  your  house  last  night  and  found  all 
well.  Mrs.  Bartlett  propounded  to  me  the  proba 
bility  of  the  safe  arrival  of  her  mince  pies  and  after 
mature  deliberation  I  decided  in  favor  thereof.  May 
my  self-esteem  and  your  palate  be  gratified  by  the 
result. 

About  a  week  since  I  called  at  your  house  and 
Mrs.  B.  told  me  that  letters  had  arrived  from  the 
Bibb,  and  that  she  had  none,  and  you  have  no  idea 
how  your  little  wife  was  let  down  from  her  usually 
buoyant  temperament.  If  you  wish  me  to  enjoy 
my  calls  you  must  write  punctually.  Not  that 
there  was  an  omission  in  this  case  —  the  letter,  I 
have  found,  came  to  hand  the  next  morning.  In 
fact,  the  next  evening  I  was  at  the  Howes'  and 
mentioned  the  disappointment.  They  said  that 
they  had  seen  Mrs.  B.  going  along  reading  a  letter, 
and  guessed  that  she  had  heard  from  you,  and  she 
told  me  last  evening  that  that  was  the  case.  I  be 
lieve  I  shall  tell  her  that  in  case  of  non-reception  of 
letters  from  you  I  wish  she  would  get  Mr.  Goodwin 
to  make  a  bowline  or  a  Matthew  Walker's  knot  on 
the  handle  of  the  door,  so  that  I  may  be  aware  of 
the  fact. 

I  went  to  a  private  dinner  given  Gen.  Butler  last 
Thursday  night  at  the  Parker  House  —  private 
so-called  —  in  distinction  from  the  regular  public 
dinner,  and  not  reported  in  the  papers.  There  were 
120  people  and  the  affair  went  off  well.  The  Gen'l. 
wore  a  black  coat  and  made  himself  agreeable  — 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  73 

spoke  about  15  minutes,  or  say  30,  with  great  ap 
plause.  I  as  a  military  man  took  great  interest  in 
the  proceedings. 

Henry  Ware  works  at  the  State  House  now,  has 
grown  fat  —  and  is  seen  but  little  by  his  friends  so 
far  as  I  hear  —  enjoys  himself  at  home  I  suppose 
like  a  sensible  man.  Carter  I  am  told  is  keeping 
school  at  Eagle's  Wood,  N.J. 

Thursday  aftn.  Thus  far  I  had  got  yesterday 
when  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  Boston,  where  I  dined 
with  Wendell,  who  highly  appreciated  your  present 
which  I  mentioned  to  him.  What!  that  splendid 
edition,  said  he  —  I  affirmed  and  told  him  that  the 
publisher  de  jure  was  our  paymaster;  the  same  by 
the  way  who,  having  revised  a  new  edition  of  the 
BIBB  at  the  Navy  Yard,  has  published  it  at  Port 
Royal. 

I  have  got  two  more  letters  to  write,  so  must 
close  this  with  despatch.  When  you  write  again 
tell  me  all  about  yourself,  —  whether  you  have 
stood  sea  life  well  and  feel  at  home  as  a  Bibber. 
Whether  you  have  had  any  more  stomachic  ^mo 
tions  (no,  I  will  cross  out  the  e)  when  the  billows 
have  rolled  you  about. — Whether  you  have 
"hove  up"  anything  beside  the  anchor — how  your 
baccy  holds  out,  and  various  such  items  which 
will  give  me  a  notion  of  your  average  domestic 
life  a  Bibboard.  I  have  not  sent  any  newspapers — 
if  you  would  like  them  write  me  word;  or  any 
thing  else.  I  have  been  your  Military  Inspector 


74  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

at  home  —  I  intend  to  be  your  Naval  Inspector 
abroad;  you  will  therefore  report  to  me  all  impor 
tant  circumstances  in  your  naval  career  —  and  all 
trivialities  which  will  keep  me  acquainted  with 
your  condition.  If  ever  you  take  a  glass  of  grog  on 
a  bowline  you  may  report  it.  But  if  you  take  one 
with  a  Matthew  Walker's  knot  in  it  (which  implies 
extra  hair  on)  you  must  on  no  account  fail  to  tell 
me  the  occasion  and  the  effects  physical  and  moral. 
Tell  me  when  you  get  your  most  cheering  pipes  and 
whether  you  do  not  recur  occasionally  to  our  night 
sessions  and  arguments.  If  I  don't  hear  from  you 
soon  I  shall  hold  a  meeting  on  the  Common,  report 
you  absent  without  leave  —  and  order  you  to  be 
executed  five  minutes  after  landing  in  this  precinct. 
It  is  a  cloudy  day  with  an  inch  or  so  of  snow  on  the 
ground  and  Buddy  lies  in  the  old  armchair  by  the 
window  —  half  awake,  half  asleep  cogitating  why 
you  don't  call  in.  I  walked  out  of  town  yesterday 
—  but  took  no  circuit  in  the  evening  as  of  the  olden 
time. 

If  you  wish  me  to  write  more  information  about 
the  old  town,  propound  me  questions  to  any  amount 
and  I  will  answer. 

N.B.  This  is  the  end  of  my  letter.  I  can't  write 
you  a  very  various  letter,  having  —  as  when  you 
were  here  —  been  in  a  very  small  circle  of  action 
and  vision.  I  can  only  stir  you  up  with  a  few  sug 
gestions  from  home.  Mary  seeing  me  writing  ex 
pressed  a  desire  to  be  remembered  to  you.  I  shall 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  75 

not  wait  so  long  next  time  to  write.  Remember  me 
to  Capt.  Boutelle. 

Yours  affectionately. 

No  other  of  John  Holmes's  war-time  letters 
have  been  found ;  nor  was  it  to  be  expected ;  for 
while  he  felt  strongly  the  national  ordeal  and  the 
distresses  which  it  caused  to  multitudes  of  private 
persons,  he  was  not  likely  to  write  formally  upon 
it.  He  never  wrote  formally  on  any  topic,  but  let 
whim  suggest  and  fancy  elaborate  the  substance 
of  his  correspondence. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

May  28,  1863. 

Either  come  down  at  8.30  and  be  beaten  into 
bench-holes,  or  appear  on  the  ground  at  the  latest 
by  9|  tomorrow  morning. 

I  had  an  expedition  to  mention  to  you,  "  most 
secret,  most  important,"  of  a  peremptory  character, 
admitting  no  delay  if  assented  to  on  your  part. 

No  man  who  had  not  hunted  a  low  at  2.40  could 
be  admitted  to  confidence.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  when 
you  were  here. 

Gome  with  punctuality  as  requested,  either  now 
when  you  receive  this,  the  sun  barely  low,  or  by 
the  jack-a-lanterns  that  light  the  marsh,  or,  making 
game  of  difficulties,  come  when  Phoebus  is  but  an 
hour  high  —  you  shall  find  me  with  my  crutch  at 
the  charge. 


76  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Come  in  high  lows. 

Now  from  a  new  plane  of  thought  as  the  modern 
phrase  is  —  If  you  don't  wish  to  play,  stroll  down 
for  a  contemplative  walk.  But -observe  there  is  an 
expedition  possibly,  and  after  10  or  so  it  would  be 
too  late. 

The  next  letter  contains  an  early  reference  to 
John  Holmes's  lameness,  due  to  some  trouble  of 
his  knee  from  which  he  never  recovered.  At  the 
worst  he  could  not  walk  at  all;  but  he  often  enjoyed 
months  of  comparative  freedom  from  pain  when  he 
limped  about  with  considerable  ease. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

May  3,  1867. 

I  can't  possibly  have  Club  tonight,  or  would; 
mean  to  have  it  next  week.  I  was  glad  to  see  you 
all  alive  and  walking  and  not  looking  at  all  kpo^ucaK 
(dropsical). 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

Seest  thou  these  little  dots 
Which  a  naughty  world  calls  blots? 
Each  is  only  liquid  thought  — 
Dribbling  where  (it  had  not  ought).* 

WALLER  writing  to  Peter  Clement. 
*  Is  n't  this  rather  strange  diction? 

CAMBRIDGE,  W,  June  9,  1869. 
I  have  been  thinking  of  a  letter  to  you  ever  since 
you  departed.  Last  evening  at  friend  Gurney's,1 

1  Ephraim  W.  Gurney,Harvard  A.  B.  1852;  Professor  of  History. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  77 

I  learned  that  you  were  coming  home  on  Saturday. 
I  write  therefore  with  a  degree  of  trepidation  lest 
you  should  turn  your  back  on  my  letter,  leaving  it 
to  pine  in  an  Ithaca  P.O.  box.  It  is  as  generous 
and  as  reckless  for  me  to  write  you  now,  as  it  would 
have  been  for  the  prodigal  son  to  have  offered  to 
treat  the  village  on  his  return.  It  occurs  to  me, 
however,  that  he  might  have  done  it  if  he  could 
have  obtained  credit,  the  chances  of  which  are 
matter  of  opinion.  Such  credit  as  he  in  tatters, 
with  a  remainder  husk  sticking  out  of  his  pocket, 
would  have  needed  with  the  publican,  I  need  and 
demand  from  you,  for  Lo,  I  am  poor  in  thought, 
and  husky  with  drouth,  having  brought  myself  to 
a  minimum  of  the  rosy.  I  only  write  this  to  signify 
my  sense  of  your  absence,  and  my  desire  for  your  re 
turn,  which  is  warm  and  lively.  Yea,  verily,  I  shall 
welcome  you  with  fervor  to  our  native  bounds. 

All  is  quiet  here :  loads  of  brick  going  to  Boston 
and  of  manure  coming  from  Boston  indicate  a  solid 
prosperity  and  incidentally  make  our  bad  roads 
worse.  Club  is  a  word  unknown.  The  Doctor  is  a 
little  lost  I  think  without  it  —  not  quite  himself  — 
Tracy  is  cheerfully  resigned.  I  am  stolidly  tran 
quil. 

Frank  Chapman's  vehiculary  was  set  on  fire  at 
about  1,  Sunday  morning,  May  30.  When  I  got 
there  one  steamer  was  playing  upon  a  formidable 
mass  of  flame:  it  was  some  time  before  another 
came  —  there  were  three  in  all,  I  think  —  and  they 


78  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

had  the  fire  under  in  about  an  hour.  There  were  no 
hand-engines,  and  in  consequence  there  was  no 
bellowing  and  counter-bellowing.  It  was  curious  to 
see  the  quiet  of  the  whole  proceeding.  There  was 
the  fire  serpent  doing  his  best  —  drawing  in  a  coil 
under  the  attack  and  rolling  himself  up  as  if  done 
for,  and  then  shooting  out  a  tongue  of  flame  in  some 
new  spot  —  then  the  engines  going  click,  click, 
click,  and  that  was  all  their  noise  —  then  there  was 
the  audience  or  the  spectance,  which  in  the  absence 
of  the  usual  fire  clamor  was  perfectly  quiet  — 
young  men  and  maidens  looking  on  as  if  at  a  show, 
and  I  think  a  man  of  moderate  voice  might  have 
spoken  a  discourse  so  that  all  would  have  heard 
hun. 

Such  a  scene  is  rather  distant  from  the  "Lane," 
and  the  "friendly"  firebuckets  that  you  and  I 
remember. 

I  read  your  lines  on  the  bell  last  evening  and 
highly  approve  them.  .  .  . 

Hoping  that  this  testimonial  of  friendship  may 
reach  you  in  season,  I  am 

Your  loving  friend. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

January  26,  1870. 

I  am  pleased  with  your  rhythmic  note,  and 
will  march  up  on  Thursday  rhythmically  to  the 
Quickstep,  as  composed  by  J.  R.  L.  and  arranged 
by  J.  H. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  79 


Staccato 

(  note  extra  con 
con  ebullitione       (    espressione 

—f  —  f  —  r- 

-f- 

0               I*      1          111            Capo. 

More,More,  Ral  -  ti    More  Rail  -  ti-mooore          ore 

If  I  come  so  soon  again  it  can't  help  being  as  a 
sort  of  transient  boarder.  One  or  two  more  such 
friends  as  you  and  friend  Gurney,  and  I  should  be 
at  free  quarters.  I  will  come  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure  and  I  thank  you  for  the  invitation. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  3,  1870. 

I  am  right  glad  to  hear  of  your  return  from  dis 
tant  lands.  I  should  be  pleased  to  present  you  with 
the  freedom  of  the  city  in  a  gold  box,  but  you  know 
how  scarce  gold  is.  I  therefore  present  you  with 
the  freedom  without  the  box. 

To  my  surprise  I  met  the  Doctor  last  night  and 
had  the  presence  of  mind  to  give  him  notice  of  Club 
Friday  night  chez  moi. 

I  give  you  the  same.  Hereof  fail  not,  etc. 

I  shall  take  it  for  granted  that  Mrs.  Lowell  has 
returned  improved  by  her  journey  and,  this  being 
established,  please  present  her  with  my  congratu 
lations  thereupon.  I  am  sorry  to  have  missed  you. 

The  correspondent  to  whom  the  next  letter  is 
addressed,  Dr.  Charles  Eliot  Ware,  was  a  college 


80  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

companion  of  Holmes,  who  practised  medicine  in 
Boston,  and  had  for  a  summer  place  a  large  farm 
at  West  Rindge,  New  Hampshire.  There  he  enter 
tained  many  companions,  most  welcome  among 
whom  was  John  Holmes.  These  two  men  grew 
closer  together  as  they  advanced  toward  old  age, 
and  a  third,  Waldo  Higginson,  usually  joined  them. 
As  they  sat  on  the  piazza  of  the  old  farmhouse  and 
looked  at  Monadnock  in  front  of  them,  there  was 
talk  which,  had  it  been  preserved  in  the  phono 
graph,  would  have  delighted  readers  today. 

To  DR.  CHARLES  ELIOT  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  16,  1871. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, — 

Your  letter  arrived  just  after  I  had  gone  away 
from  my  new  quarters  in  the  Appian  Way  on 
an  expedition  to  Plymouth,  where  I  stayed  until 
Thursday,  August  11.  I  went  on  this  trip  the 
morning  after  the  first  night  I  spent  in  my  new 
quarters,  and  I  think  it  served  a  good  purpose  to 
make  the  change  of  abode  easier.  I  am  very  glad 
to  hear  from  you  and  I  want  to  see  you.  If  I  medi 
tate  any  formal  invasion  of  your  premises  I  shall 
give  you  due  notice  as  you  suggest,  but  with  the 
railroad  so  near  you  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  run  up 
on  my  own  account  and  risk. 

At  present  I  find  myself  constrained  by  forty 
different  circumstances  from  attempting  to  visit 
you.  I  found  it  far  more  of  a  task,  in  its  material 


CHARLES   ELIOT   WARE,    JOHN   HOLMES,   AND   WALDO   HIGGINSON 


on-,Tfc.w 


vrn?.n 


TO   DR.    CHARLES   ELIOT  WARE  81 

difficulties,  than  I  thought,  to  change  my  quarters. 
I  had  to  look  over  piles  and  piles  of  rubbish,  some 
going  back  to  the  year  1715  or  thereabout.  The 
business  papers  and  account  books  of  my  great 
grandfather  had  been  kept  in  the  attic  one  hundred 
and  fifty-six  years,  to  give  his  great-grandson  what 
between  us  might  be  called  a  sweat  (and  a  very 
copious  one).  I  found  commercial  letters  referring 
to  Prince  Charles  Edward's  invasion,  and  such 
letters  as  contained  any  historical  allusions  I  saved, 
and  burned  the  residue,  something  under  forty 
bushels.  What  with  reading,  selecting,  burning, 
packing  and  the  general  sense  of  dislocation  attend 
ing  removal,  I  could  have  sat  for  a  portrait  of  John 
Calvin,  so  far  as  sternness  or  severity  was  de 
manded.  This  severe  look  I  acquired  in  burning 
the  masses  of  paper  against  which  I  had  conceived 
a  certain  rage  for  the  trouble  they  had  put  me  to. 
I  hope  I  had  not  got  so  bad  as  to  regret  that  they 
could  not  yell  a  little.  I  do  not  think  I  had.  Cam 
bridge  is  in  the  most  furious  stage  of  improvement 
heretofore  known.  They  build,  they  remove  build 
ings,  they  add  and  subtract  parts,  and  at  last  have 
come  to  disembowelling  large  structures  of  recent 
erection  with  a  fury  like  that  of  the  Bacchanals, 
that  they  may  have  the  luxury  of  replacing  the 
viscera.  The  Scientific  School  Building  and  a  very 
large  schoolhouse  on  Brattle  Street  are  being  sub 
jected  to  this  process.  Only  a  few  of  the  true  old 
Cambridge  stock  retain  their  equanimity  during 


82  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

the  tumult.  And  ours  is  the  calmness  of  despair. 
Old  Cambridge  is  almost  gone  and  the  New  has 
taken  its  place. 

We  have  to  fall  back  on  the  simple  memories  of 
what  are  our  old  times,  and  in  such  quiet  precincts 
gather  ourselves  to  resist  the  uproar  of  the  present 
day.  Excuse  my  prosing. 

Yours  affectionately. 

The  episode,  slight  but  characteristic,  of  which 
John  S.  Dwight  writes  in  the  following  letter  to 
George  William  Curtis  belongs  to  this  period. 

"The  evening  before  your  letter  came  I  spent  in 
Cambridge  with  my  dear  friend  John  Holmes,  who 
has  been  laid  up  lame,  but  is  getting  better.  I  must 
tell  you  of  a  little  thing  he  related  to  me,  as  show 
ing  the  delicacy  of  his  character.  I  chanced  to  say 
that,  driven  to  the  last  extremity,  unable  to  write 
or  read  or  think,  I  had  taken  up  'Pickwick  Papers' 
again.  Said  he,  'I  never  met  Dickens  but  once: 
that  was  at  James  Lowell's.  Mention  was  made 
of  some  little-known  book  of  Walter  Scott,  and 
Dickens  said  to  me:  "You  ought  to  have  that. 
When  I  get  home,  I  will  send  it  to  you."'  John 
said,  'I  replied:  "Oh,  no,  my  dear  sir.  I  cannot 
allow  that.  If  you  make  such  a  promise,  it  will 
bother  you  more  than  it  is  worth,'"  or  something 
like  that."' 

,    l  G.  W.  Cooke:  John  Sullivan  Dwght,  p.  287.  Boston,  1898. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  83 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

[1870?]. 
Mi  CARE  JACOBE, — 

Puta  quomodo  sentibam  Friday  postremo,  cum 
inveniebam  quod  Doctor  non  erat  eundus  ad  Fus- 
tem.  Supponebam  ut  Doctor  appellant  pro  me 
nuntiare  ad  te  causam  meae  absentrae;  sed  con- 
trario  modo  Johannes,  Celtus,  ad  portam  venit 
cum  epistola,  dequa  inveni  ut  Doctor  capitis 
malum  habebat  et  moratatur  ad  domum  invito. 
Misi  Johannem  cum  epistola  ad  Traceium  et 
exitum  totae  rei  nescio;  sive  Traceius  solus  ad 
Fustem  ibat;  sive  Fustem  habebas,  sive  dolore  et 
ira  Fuste  amisso  pendisti  te  ad  trabem,  causa  non 
apparente  defectionis,  sic  ut  nunc  apparet,  si  vivis 
et  non  suspensus  fmsti. 

Tibi  profiteer  quod  sentio  male  in  praemissis 
(ut  dicunt  jurisperiti). 

Ayxv\ov  nuper  tortum  (id  est  in  '63)  retorsi 
quantulum  et  post  quiddam  experimentum  timeo 
ambulare,  ne  sim  tanto  majus  retentus  domi. 

Invenio  quod  tu  habebas  fustem  post  me, — 
tune  Doctor,  tune  Traceius;  sic  mihi  occurrebat 
Fustem  habere  quum  Doctor  ilium  habebat;  erro- 
rem  confiteor.  Hoc  Friday  non  possum  Fustem 
habere  possibiliter  —  proximo,  spero  habere  (nee 
"possum"  ludo,  hoc  dicendo). 

Spero  ayxy^ov  usuni  cito  recuperare  et  tune 
apparere  bonus  Fustor. 


84  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Interea  dico,  "Fustis;  et  nunquam  Bunkeret 
desuper." 

Cum  multa  amicitia 

Tuus 

J.  H. 

I  make  no  attempt  to  inject  grammatical  or  other 
correctness  into  this  letter  and  the  following. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

Die  quam  appellate  inter 
Romanes,  nescio;  inter  nos, 

Thursday,  November  30  [1870?]. 
CARE  JACOBUS, — 

Ut  cogitatum  me  transportare  ad  tuum  domum 
ay/cvXos  recalcitravit  et  crutch  revocavit.  Tristis- 
simus  me  sedebam  prope  foculum  meum  appella- 
tum  populariter  tvywe  Hodie  ayfcvXos  melior  ego 
jucundior.  Fidissime  confido  te  videre  "Fusti" 
eras  vespera.  Paupertatem  ingenii  obscuro  sub 
Xatimtate  monstrosissima.  Si  praevideram  hanc 
novissimam  clauditatem  citior  Scripsissem  Pos- 
tremo  "Fuste"  Stetimus  quatuor  ad  quatuor,  et  si 
tempus  suffecerat  Traceius  et  ego  stragem  veram 
feceramus.  Appellas  id  "Contundi  in  cavos  plau- 
stir"?  Shaksp.  quod  tu  futiliter  voluisti,  epistola 
postrema.  Gutturem  tuum  nunc  robustum  vali- 
dum,  amplum-ins-issimum  spero  esse. 

Moderate  tristis 

Vester 
J.  H. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  85 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE, 

Monday  evening  [no  date]  [1870?]. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES  LOWELL, — 

I  want  to  have  Club  on  Wednesday  evening  (the 
Doctor  can't  come  on  Thursday).  Please  arrange  if 
possible  for  it. 

We  expect  to  have  the  noted  pedestrian,  Carter, 
on  that  occasion.  He  has  just  won  his  great  match 
against  time  —  two  miles  and  a  half  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  He  is  getting  on  well,  and  there  is  little 
doubt  of  his  being  able  to  come.  All  we  fear  now  is 
colic,  and  he  will  not  take  the  only  specific  — 
brandy,  but  I  hope  he  won't  have  it. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

WEDNESDAY,  December  3  [no  date]. 

Can  you  do  me  the  kindness  to  come  over  here 
for  a  little  while  this  evening.  There  is  a  very 
pretty  moon  now,  —  so  the  almanac  says,  and  the 
weather  is  to  the  eye  of  the  philosopher  inviting. 
You  and  I  are  happily  elevated  above  those  vulgar 
prejudices  which  lead  some  to  asperse  the  harmony 
of  the  elements  called  weather. 

There  is  a  delicious  howl  at  this  moment  that 
makes  me  ache  to  get  out;  but  what  can  a  man  do, 
with  any  number  of  lame  legs? 

By  the  way,  if  you  should  see  a  cord  of  good 
crutch-wood,  please  purchase  it  for  me,  and  if  you 


86  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

should  want  a  little  liniment,  or  opodeldoc  or  bay 
rum,  (which  does  n't  put  people  over  the  bay)  or  a 
crutch  to  go  a-pleasuring  with,  or  a  genteel  but 
serviceable  cane,  or  any  such  nicknack,  why  you 
know  where  to  come. 

I'm  sure  I  hope  you'll  never  be  lame,  unless 
with  a  well-earned,  and  transient  gout.  I  should 
not  like  to  see  you  reduced  to  the  low  speed  of  |  of  a 
mile  an  hour,  which  we  call  good. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

Thursday  12  A.M.  [1872?]. 

I  thank  you  much  for  the  volume  of  Essays1 
which  I  found  when  I  returned  from  Salem. 

This  condensed  body  of  criticism  and  biog 
raphy  (which  latter  is  antechamber  to  History)  is 
vastly  more  valuable  to  me  than  the  parts  of  it 
scattered  here  and  there,  and  I  read  it  with  much 
greater  pleasure.  The  miser's  stocking  stuffed  with 
zechins,  moidores,  joes,  or  whatever  savory  time- 
flavored  coin  you  please,  is  what  he  hugs  to  his 
heart  and  puts  under  his  pillow.  His  bills  and  bonds 
are  collectible  but  this  is  collected.  It  is  the  difference 
between  many  children  abroad  and  one  at  home  — 
that  one  he  can  hug  or  flog  at  pleasure,  the  others 
he  must  wait  for.  The  miser,  I  must  say  now  I 
think  of  him  as  a  poet  and  a  martyr.  He  lives  for 
the  ideal  and  if  necessary  will  die  the  slowest  hard 
est  death  for  it. 

1  Probably  Lowell's  My  Study  Windows,  published  in  1872. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  87 

His  sublime  self-sacrifice  for  the  abstract  princi 
ple,  represented  maybe  by  the  fraction  of  a  cent, 
wants  nothing  but  another  base  to  ennoble  him. 
His  fortitude  and  energy  are  as  good  as  another's, 
his  motive  power  we  regretfully  condemn  at  base. 

The  miser  is  almost  the  only  exceptionable  char 
acter  that  wants  a  coat  of  whitewash  now.  (You 
have  read  the  Memoir  of  Barabbas  in  which  he  is 
shown  to  have  been  a  collector  of  taxes  and  Sunday 
School  teacher  of  the  most  benevolent  disposition, 
accused  and  imprisoned  for  his  fidelity  in  office, 
by  malignant  taxpayers.  I  don't  blame  the  tax 
payers  myself.) 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  miser  has  with  infinite 
pains  and  privations  drawn  together  his  little  pile 
of  coins,  may  he  not  possibly  feel  toward  them  as  if 
they  were  his  children?  He  keeps  the  social  group 
together  and  at  home  through  pangs  of  hunger  and 
cold  which  he  endures  for  their  dear  sakes.  If  he 
prudently  lends  the  services  of  his  family  for  a  sea 
son  to  others,  it  is  only  for  their  interest,  as  other 
fathers  of  family  do. 

He  robs  no  man,  he  only  keeps  his  own.  To  the 
poor  and  suffering  he  administers  instead  of  a  par 
tial  relief,  a  comprehensive  remedy. 

He  says, "  Bear  privations  as  I  do !  Put  such  waifs 
of  old  iron  and  the  like  as  you  can  collect,  into  a  bag 
— add  to  it  constantly  on  principle,  and  you  are  as 
comfortable  as  I  am."  And  if  there  are  no  children 
short  of  food  and  raiment  he  speaks  the  truth. 


88  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

The  future  advocate  of  the  miser  will  say:  Do 
you  admire  the  speed,  strength  and  energy  of  a 
man  any  the  less  because  he  is  running  in  the 
wrong  direction,  etc.,  etc.,  and  then  the  physiolo 
gists  will  find  out  some  new  twist  about  the 
mechanical  action  in  some  folks'  constitutions,  on 
motives,  and  the  Miser  will  be  rehabilitated  and 
we  shall  have  a  statue  to  Remember  Preston,  and 
everything  will  be  very  comfortable  and  friendly. 

I  foresee  a  time  when  a  statue  will  be  erected  to 
the  man  who  refused  with  ferocity  to  enter  the  list 
of  competitive  contributors  to  some  public  or  pri 
vate  object  and  slew  the  agent. 

I  hope  that  I  foresee  a  time  when  men  having 
explored  all  the  passages  that  lead  to  nothing,  and 
having  sufficiently  tried  to  lift  themselves  by  their 
waistbands,  and  to  walk  on  their  heads,  will  find 
some  plain  truths,  enough  to  live  and  die  by. 

Application.  I  admire  and  very  highly  value 
your  book  and  enjoy  it  most  enjoyably.  And  am 

Yours  affectionately, 

J.  H 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  TRIP  TO  EUROPE,  1872-73 

IN  the  summer  of  1872  John  Holmes  started  on 
a  trip  to  Europe.  What  prompted  him  to  under 
take  this  long  journey  in  spite  of  his  lameness  and 
his  love  of  routine  does  not  appear.  He  was  sixty 
years  old,  and,  although  he  lived  in  solitary  quar 
ters  in  Appian  Way,  he  was  always  within  easy 
reach  of  friends;  but  in  Europe  he  could  count  only 
on  chance  acquaintances  to  relieve  his  loneliness. 
He  planned,  however,  to  join  the  Lowells  and  the 
Henry  Wares,  who  were  abroad  at  that  time.  In 
deed  Lowell  and  he  crossed  on  the  same  steamer. 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

LONDON,  July  24,  1872. 
Tavistock  Hotel. 

I  met  a  finback  whale  going  home  to  Massachusetts 
Bay.  I  thought  he  looked  a  little  maliciously  at  me  as  if 
to  say,  What  are  you  up  to  on  board  that  boat  ?  but  I  took 
no  notice.  If  I  thought  he  winked  at  me  I  should  never 
forgive  him. 

MY  DEAR  J.   B.,    OH,   MY  DEAR  J.   B., — 

After  near  48  hours  of  solitary  confinement  at 
the  modest  hotel  whose  name  you  behold  hereon, 
heretofore,  and  hereabove,  impressed,  I  write  to 
my  friend,  fellow  countryman,  and  adversary  (qua 
whist1)  that  he  may  enjoy,  and  sympathize  with 

1  Charles  W.  Storey. 


90  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

my  sufferings.  I  landed  at  Liverpool  on  Saturday 
night  at  about  9,  or  say  10,  o'clock,  and  having 
passed  the  custom  house,  which  put  us  through 
with  great  civility  and  speed,  I  partly  walked, 
partly  cabbed  to  the  Adelphi  Hotel  with  two 
travelling  companions;  and  almost  as  soon  as  there, 
sallied  forth  with  the  night  porter  to  get  a  hat.  I 
had  crossed  the  Atlantic  with  my  old  straw  — 
which  very  often  showed  which  way  the  wind  blew, 
but  was  squashed  on  to  my  head  so  that  nothing 
but  a  cyclone  could  have  stirred  it.  Well,  my  dear 
J.  B.,  I  bought  the  jimmiest  little  curled-up  con 
cern  of  a  hat  perhaps  to  be  found  in  all  England. 
I  have  not  seen  anything  in 'London  equal  to  it 
yet — it  is  a  dreadful  contrast  to  my  gloomy  aspect 
as  I  move  about  within  prison  bounds.  I  laugh  in 
wardly  at  my  desolation  —  but  outwardly  must  be 
the  image  of  solitary  woe.  It  is  a  first-rate  thing 
for  an  old  fellow  who  has  been  such  a  home  stayer 
as  I  have  been.  You  see  the  way  of  it  was  this  — 
James  Lowell  with  divers  other  of  our  passengers, 
quite  a  number,  elected  to  land  at  Queenstown  and 
make  a  trip  to  Killarney,  Giant's  Causeway,  etc. 
Now  I  have  no  sympathy  with  giants,  who,  I  think, 
are  nuisances,  and  I  am  too  staunch  a  Cambridge 
man  to  wish  to  raise  a  rival  to  Fresh  Pond  —  these 
with  divers  reasons  of  prudence  regarding  the  leg 
and  a  certain  desire  to  see  the  whole  length  of  Irish 
Channel  down  which  I  buffed  it  and  roughed  it 
in  '39,  induced  me  to  go  on  for  Liverpool,  where  I 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  91 

arrived  as  aforementioned,  with  my  hat  the  color 
of  an  extinct  volcano. 

Now  then,  having  taken  a  pull  at  the  pint  of  ale 
by  my  side,  I  proceed.  I  slept  and  breakfasted  at 
the  Adelphi  and  on  Sunday  forenoon  went  with 
pleasant  companions  to  Chester  —  partly  steamer, 
partly  R.R.  —  about  an  hour's  trip  —  and  with 
them  put  up  at  the  Grosvenor  Hotel  —  a  very  nice 
house.  Then  on  Monday  at  1.30  I  took  the  train 
for  London,  with  one  companion  only  who  was 
bound  for  a  West  End  Hotel  while  I  preferred, 
having  no  acquaintance,  to  come  to  this  house, 
where  I  stayed  a  short  time  nearly  33  years  since. 

With  certain  desperation  I  demanded  a  good 
room  not  forty  miles  up,  although  I  meant  to  come 
here  at  all  events.  Well,  sure  enough  they  gave  me 
a  very  accessible  and  very  decent  room  —  but  so 
dark!  I  felt  a  strong  desire  to  recommence  the 
cultivation  of  mushrooms  (which  you  know, 
maybe,  I  attempted  in  the  cellar  of  our  old  house) 
but  I  repressed  it,  and  devoted  myself  to  an  inte 
rior  melancholy  —  with  a  highly  amused  exterior 
observance  of  the  same.  If  you  could  have  seen 
me  go  in  to  dinner  it  would  have  done  you  good  — 
so  solemn  —  my  eyes  directed  at  nothing  so  far  as  I 
could  make  them  act  unanimously,  and  I  am  sure 
Burleigh  or  Cecil  could  n't  have  beat  me  for  intense 
gravity  of  aspect. 

I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  call  for  a  J  pint 
of  sherry,  which  acclimated  me  a  little.  After 


92  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

dinner  I  adjourned  soon  to  the  smoking-room,  and 
somehow  or  other  stuck  it  out  till  bed-time,  and  I 
really  think  that  if  I  had  been  astride  of  the  pro 
jecting  part  of  one  of  the  poles  with  a  large  icicle 
to  hang  on  to,  I  should  have  felt  as  social  as  where 
I  was.  This  was  Monday  evening.  Tuesday  — 
yesterday  —  I  did  n't  advance  much  till  dinner 
time,  when  a  pleasant  invalid  Englishman  ad 
dressed  me  first.  I  hope  I  shall  meet  him  today 
at  dinner.  He  was  just  like  any  quiet,  good 
Yankee.  This  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact 
that  he  was  born  in  Boston,  (England)  but  now 
living  in  the  South  of  England.  He  rather  insisted 
on  my  partaking  of  and  finishing  the  strawberries 
which  he  had  called  for.  I  ate  a  few  of  them  —  they 
were  very  good  indeed  —  with  plenty  of  flavor  — 
this  on  the  23d  July.  It  thundered  and  lightened 
during  dinner  in  true  American  style — they  have  n't 
seen  the  like  of  it  in  London  for  many  years. 

I  have  not  walked  out  to  any  distance  till  today. 
I  took  a  cab  to  the  Strand  and  to  Charing  Cross, 
and  after  making  one  or  two  small  purchases  walked 
back. 

I  have  not  been  to  Baring  Bros,  yet  —  my  gold 
holding  out  and  more.  Tomorrow  I  think  I  shall 
present  my  letter  of  credit.  I  may  go  over  to  Hol 
land  and  up  the  Rhine  before  James  L[owell]  comes. 
I  love  to  look  at  the  Englishmen  as  they  come  into 
the  Coffee  room  —  a  pretty  stalwart  set  the  most 
of  them  —  and  I  am  much  taken  with  their  fine 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  93 

chest  voices  —  this  is  a  trait  (physical)  that  im 
presses  me  a  good  deal. 

One  of  these  Englishmen  last  evening  reminded 
me  of  your  partner,  Mr.  Flagg,  and  I  am  waiting 
for  one  to  come  who  shall  remind  me  of  J.  B.  I 
ought  to  thank  you  for  my  sea  chair,  which  was  of 
service  to  me  and  many  others  on  the  passage. 

The  passage  was  a  quiet  one  but  colder  than  a 
man  would  think  leaving  Boston  on  the  9th.  Take 
care  of  yourself  —  when  you  write  keep  me  advised 
of  the  health  of  the  firm.  Give  my  love  to  Mrs. 
Bartlett  and  believe  me 

Yours  aff . 

After  a  stay  in  London,  Holmes  went  to  Germany 
and  then  to  Vienna.  After  other  wanderings  he 
settled  for  the  winter  in  Paris  at  the  Hotel  de 
Lorraine,  7  Rue  de  Beaune. 

"  J.  H.  came  back  to  us  day  before  yesterday," 
Lowell  writes  Norton,  May  1, 1873, "  after  a  month 
in  Italy  where  he  did  not  much  enjoy  himself.  He 
says  that  he  has  become  a  thorough  'misoscopist' 
or  hater  of  sights.  He  goes  home  in  June,  and  I 
shall  miss  him  more  than  I  like  to  think."1 

Norton,  then  in  London,  writes  in  his  journal: 
"Lowell  always  carried  too  much  of  Cambridge 
with  him,  and  John  Holmes  and  he  have  managed 
to  make  the  Quays  and  Rue  de  Rivoli  mere  con 
tinuations  of  Brattle  Street." 

1  Letters  of  J.  R.  Lowell,  vol.  II,  p.  98. 


94  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Assuredly,  Holmes  did  carry  Cambridge  about 
with  him.  In  Venice  he  used  to  go  every  day  to 
one  commonplace  spot,  because  it  reminded  him  of 
the  junction  of  Broadway  and  Cambridge  Street 
in  the  Lower  Port.  His  love  of  his  native  town  was 
quickened  by  absence.  He  undertook  what  we 
may  call  a  sentimental  journey  to  Denmark,  in  the 
hope  of  finding  there  a  chance  traveling  companion 
whom  he  fell  in  with  on  his  first  trip  to  Europe  in 
1839.  On  arriving  at  his  destination,  he  learned 
that  his  friend  had  been  dead  nearly  thirty  years. 
After  taking  a  hurried  glimpse  of  Edinburgh  and 
York,  he  met  the  Wares  and  they  all  sailed  home 
ward  from  Liverpool  on  the  Siberia. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

DRESDEN,  August  28,  1872. 

I  have  been  wandering  in  strange  lands  since  I 
saw  you,  and  am  now  "zuriick"  in  Dresden,  trying 
to  lay  in  a  few  words  of  High  Dutch. 

It  is  astonishing  with  what  ease  the  natives  speak 
this  difficult  tongue.  The  dumb  animals  know 
about  as  much  of  it  as  I  do.  "Kommen,"  and  they 
come,  —  "Gehen,"  and  they  go.  It  is  a  fortnight 
tomorrow  since  I  left  you,  and  you  left  me,  for  I 
suppose  you  went  recht  to  Cumberland.  When  you 
get  this  you  will  advise  me  of  your  movements  — 
and  I  will  try  to  make  mine  agree.  I  think  now  of 
staying  here  a  week  or  ten  days,  looking  at  pic 
tures  and  the  like,  and  intend  to  become  a  connois- 


TO   J.    R.    LOWELL  95 

seur.  Sky  lines  (Vide  Col.  T.  A.),  perspectives  and 
chiaroscuros  will  be  among  my  smallest  hoards.  I 
hope  to  invent  something  —  say  katoptric. 

With  all  this  I  am  in  a  very  modest  mood.  I  am 
at  the  Hotel  Zum  Goldner  Engel,  where  I  am  on 
short  allowance  of  English,  I  assure  you,  and  it  is 
submiraculous  that  I  have  got  here  —  for  all  the 
Deutsch  I  have  used,  I  might  have  worked  down 
to  the  Black  Sea  by  this  time,  which  I  am  thankful 
I  did  not  do.  I  never  was  more  scanted  for  lingo, 
surely. 

Well  now  you  must  write  me  straightway  and 
mayhap  you  will  like  to  come  over  here  and  renew 
your  acquaintance  with  the  Professor,  and  so  with 
much  love  to  you  and  Mrs.  Lowell  I  am 

Yours  affectionately. 

Thursday  forenoon. 

I  have  nothing  special  to  add,  and  yet  therefore 
I  add  something.  It  seems  inhospitable  (for  want 
of  a  better  word)  to  send  so  vacant  a  letter.  Here 
am  I  ganz  allein,  keeping  myself  company  in  a  sur 
prising  manner.  I  am  now  a  good  deal  wanted  at 
the  Hotel  Zum  Goldne  Engel  (I  don't  pretend  to 
spell  German). 

I  want  very  much  to  hear  from  you  and  am  hop 
ing  that  you  both  have  had  a  royal  (Koeniglicher) 
time  in  England.  I  have  very  much  my  native 
tongue  vergotten,  so  pardon  mistakes. 


96  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 


To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

DRESDEN,  September  23,  1872. 
Monday. 

I  received  your  welcome  note  of  September  18 
on  Saturday  afternoon,  the  21st.  I  began  to  fear 
that  you  or  Mrs.  L.  might  be  ill  and  hindered  from 
returning  to  London. 

Ich  bin  ganz  freudig,  zufrieden  heiter  lustig 
frohlich  to  find  that  you  are  all  right. 

I  mean  to  wait  here  for  an  answer  to  this,  that 
we  may  form  a  plan  of  junction.  If  you  write  me 
on  the  instant,  I  ought  to  receive  your  letter  by 
next  Tuesday,  the  30th. 

I  wish  you  would  tell  me  how  long  you  mean  to 
stay  in  Paris,  and  where  to  go  from  there. 

I  recollect  that  you  spoke  of  living  for  a  while  in 
some  quiet  French  town ;  this  suits  my  views  exactly. 

Please  write  with  all  minuteness  possible  about 
your  plans. 

I  shall  probably  leave  here  immediately  on  re 
ceiving  your  answer.  I  think  of  going  to  Denmark 
for  a  few  days,  and  after  that,  according  to  what  I 
hear  from  you,  follow  you  more  or  less  directly.  I 
may  wish  to  go  into  Bavaria  and  into  the  Erck- 
mann-Chatrian  localities,  and  so  to  Paris,  or  other 
point  as  you  may  write  me.  If  you  are  going  to  be 
for  several  weeks  at  Paris  or  are  going  thence  to 
any  French  town  to  reside  a  certain  time,  as  above 
mentioned,  I  can  wander  about  a  little  as  well  as  not. 


TO   J.    R.    LOWELL  97 

I  have  been  re-re-reading  Thiers  a  little:  with 
regard  to  the  fighting  around  Dresden  in  1813.  I 
find  myself  a  little  infected  with  strategy  —  have 
thought  of  sending  my  baggage  down  the  left  bank 
of  the  Elbe  (there  is  no  navigation  from  here), 
while  I  go  on  the  right,  uniting  the  two  columns  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  and  so  occupy  a  position 
on  your  flank  if  you  should  attempt  to  go  back  to 
England.  Practically  however  as  I  have  no  force 
to  escort  the  baggage,  and  the  amount  is  very 
small,  I  shall  take  it  with  me  and  make  no  show 
of  science.  I  made  a  distribution  of  boots  to  my 
forces  on  Saturday  —  in  other  words  got  a  pair 
$6.28,  capacious,  strong  and  ugly. 

I  have  now  staid  a  month  here,  exclusive  of  my 
trip  to  Vienna.  I  suppose  that  I  am  about  a  ninth 
as  well  acquainted  with  Dresden  as  you  are.  My 
intellectual  being  has  surely  enlarged  itself  little, 
and  my  corporeal  has  shrunken  I  am  certain.  .  .  . 
When  I  look  in  the  glass  and  see  the  "old  gent" 
who  presents  himself,  I  say  "Well  my  good  Sir 
and  what  brought  you  here?"  .  .  . 

I  have  this  moment  received  a  letter  from  Rowse 
—  I  have  read  it,  and  Oh,  how  funny!  Tell  him  he 
has  shaken  my  enfeebled  constitution  badly  —  tell 
him  my  miseries  are  all  real  and  I  truly  hope  his 
are — there  is  no  use  in  either  of  us  shamming  un 
der  such  circumstances  —  misery  and  solitude  are 
my  only  companions  and  friends. 

Kind  remembrances,  etc. 


98  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

DRUKHEIM,  October  27,  72. 

I  received  yours  (not  dated,  but  postmarked  the 
25th)  with  the  very  greatest  pleasure.  I  began  to 
fear  that  you  had  left  Paris,  and  left  some  notice 
for  me  where  to  follow,  and  your  letter  was  an 
immense  satisfaction. 

I  by  no  means  think  of  depreciating  your  letter, 
when  I  say  that  it  does  n't  take  much  to  make  a 
holiday  for  me  in  Diirkheim  —  but  it  was  the  first 
enlivening  event  since  my  arrival  at  this  terraced, 
wine-growing,  honest,  bottled  town.  The  bottles 
here  are  such  as  for  one-third  of  a  century  I  have 
not  seen  —  I  can't  say  bottomless,  for  what  bottle 
I  tearfully  ask  has  not  a  bottom  —  but  these 
bottles  wear  no  bustles  —  their  bottom  is  but  a 
thin  spectrum  between  the  wine  and  perdition,  — 
and  you  know,  James,  that  our  bottles  at  home  are 
all  bottom  —  Yea,  All  Bottom. 

I  was  delighted  with  your  energetic  call  to  me  to 
come  on  and  join  you.  If  I  should  stay  two  days 
longer  here  I  think  you  would  hardly  mind  it, — 
and  I  should  arrive  very  soon  after  my  letter. 

I  should  n't  mind  paying  for  a  day  or  two  for 
any  good  room  which  such  payment  would  keep 
for  me.  The  prospect  of  being  with  you  and  Rowse 1 
in  comfortable  quarters  is  beyond  measure  satis 
factory  —  but  my  now  dear  bosom  companion  and 

1  Samuel  W.  Rowse,  American  artist;  famous  for  crayon  portraits. 


TO    MRS.   JOHN   BARTLETT  99 

bedfellow,  Misery,  begs  me  to  stay  and  suffer  two 
days  more,  and  I  can  hardly  deny  her.  She  is 
reasonably  jealous  of  her  rival,  Happiness,  and  she 
sounds  it  in  my  ear : "  Old  gent,  have  n't  I  been  true 
to  you?  Have  n't  I  stuck  by  you?  Do  you  know 
H.?  [meaning  Happiness]"  I  answer  modestly, 
"My  dear  M.,  I  have  no  more  than  a  passing 
acquaintance  with  her."  "I  am  glad  to  hear  you 
say  so,"  says  M.  "She  is  the  ficklest  —  wantonest 
jade.  Oh  if  I  could  only  tell  you  all  that  I  know 
about  her!"  "You  needn't  say  a  word  M."  (I 
reply),  "your  dear,  old,  wizened  woe-begone  face  is 
enough  for  me  —  you  are  reliable  —  I  will  try  to 
stay  two  days  in  Durkheim." 

Age,  I  hope  not  quite  dotage,  has  made  me  write  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  paper  but  you  won't  mind  this. 

With  love  to  you  and  Mrs.  L.  and  kind  regards 
to  Rowse,  I  am 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  MRS.  JOHN  BARTLETT 

PARIS,  November  20,  1872. 
MY  DEAR  (MRS.)  HANNAH  (BARTLETT), — 

Ask  J.  B.  if  this  looks  like  saying  My  dear  Han 
nah,  and  if  he  says  it  does,  I  will  treat  liberally  to 
anything  economical.  I  will  give  him  as  many  of 
my  cigars  as  he  can  smoke  in  twenty-four  hours, 
and  as  much  of  my  claret  as  he  can  drink  in  forty- 
eight.  I  am  in  a  quiet  hotel  with  J.  R.  L.  and  his 
wife,  living  nearly  the  same  sedentary  life  as  at 


100  LETTERS  OF  JOHN   HOLMES 

home.  Indeed,  I  cannot  walk  much,  having  now 
one  of  my  downs,  though  I  got  famously  up,  in 
Dresden.  Tell  your  John  that  I  got  his  letter  — 
that  it  was  very  pleasant  but  very  short,  and  that  I 
expect  a  long  and  circumstantial  one  from  him.  If 
he  won't  take  that  trouble  I  shan't  think  so  well  of 
him.  When  I  wrote  him  I  believe  I  asked  no  an 
swer,  as  I  have  of  almost  no  one  —  none  out  of  the 
family;  but  as  he  saw  fit  to  write,  tell  him  to  write 
me  a  long  one  and  give  me  his  account  of  the  fire, 
which  I  should  like  to  have. 

I  will  now  briefly  tell  where  I  have  been,  and 
staid.  On  August  15,  finding  that  James  wished  to 
make  a  tour  in  England,  and  a  visit  to  William 
Storey  in  Northumberland,  I  took  the  steamer  for 
Rotterdam,  —  thence  a  through  ticket  for  Dres 
den,  and  made  out  to  get  there  on  August  17,  with 
out  a  word  of  High  Dutch  but  with  great  anxieties 
lest  I  should  be  switched  off  into  some  wild  and 
pagan  country. 

Tuesday,  August  20,  I  set  out  for  Vienna  with 
the  Dorrs,  whom  I  met  at  Dresden.  I  had  a  very 
pleasant  trip,  and  on  Tuesday  27th  bade  them 
good-by  and  about  noon  set  out  for  Dresden  and 
arrived  at  about  4  say  the  next  morning.  I  staid 
there  in  entire  solitude  till  October  15,  except  a  few 
days  before  I  left,  in  which  I  had  the  company  of 
Henry  Ware,  who  had  come  to  spend  the  winter 
in  Dresden.  I  fraternized  with  him  but  could  n't 
walk  much. 


TO   MRS.   JOHN   BARTLETT  101 

On  October  15  I  set  out  for  Rendsburg  in  Hoi- 
stein,  to  find  the  old  friend  with  whom  I  travelled 
in  '39,  who  I  had  reason  to  believe  was  still  living. 
I  found  only  his  nephew  (who  also  had  been  my 
companion)  older  than  his  uncle  of  1839  —  and  I 
found  that  my  pleasant  friend  had  been  dead  since 
1845.  I  was  very  pleasantly  received .  by  the 
nephew,  who  was  but  a  young  fellow  when  I 
travelled  with  him,  and  on  October  17th  set  out 
for  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  where  I  arrived  at  9  or 
10,  say,  next  morning.  Staid  over  the  day  —  re 
freshed  —  drew  some  money  —  looked  at  the  town, 
which  is  extremely  pretty,  and  on  Saturday,  Octo 
ber  19  went  by  Mannheim  to  Durkheim,  a  town  of 
Rhenish  Bavaria,  prettily  situated  in  a  country  of 
vineyards.  Here  I  stayed  ten  days,  lonely  enough, 
and  on  Wednesday  October  30  took  a  through 
ticket  for  Paris  and  arrived  there  Thursday  morn 
ing  before  J.  R.  L.  was  up.  Here  I  have  been  domi 
ciled  with  him  very  comfortably  ever  since,  but 
have  been  quite  sedentary.  I  can  walk  but  little. 
R.  W.  Emerson  with  his  daughter  came  to  the 
house  last  Friday,  and  go  on  for  Egypt  tomorrow. 

This  is  a  very  prosy  history  of  my  pilgrimage, 
which  itself  has  been  for  the  most  part  prosaic. 
Tell  J.  B.  that  I  am  loyal  to  "the  Centre."  We 
hear  that  he  has  bought  a  lot  to  build;  let  him  tell 
me  about  it  when  he  writes  —  tell  him  he  must 
write  me  a  long  letter  if  he  writes  me  any.  I  don't 
pretend  to  tell  you  about  the  places  I  have  been 


102  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

at — for  when  I  consider  the  many  people  who  have 
been  everywhere  and  almost  never  open  their  lips 
for  "Narrative"  and  are  seldom  asked  to  do  it,  I 
feel  that  my  scanty  impressions  had  at  least  better 
not  be  committed  to  paper.  I  don't  know  that  they 
would  afford  much  material  for  small  talk.  There 
is  one  thing  I  can  tell  you  —  that  it  is  mighty  dark 
here  in  Paris  most  of  the  time  at  this  season.  I  had 
to  stop  at  3^  this  afternoon.  I  am  getting  a  num 
ber  of  letters  ready  for  the  Brest  steamer  of  the  23d, 
and  find  myself  a  good  deal  limited  by  the  darkness 
of  the  day,  and  the  effort  to  my  eyes  of  writing  at 
night. 

I  suppose  I  shall  go  to  Italy  bye  and  bye,  but 
James  Lowell  seems  quite  too  contented  with  his 
abode  here  to  go  yet  awhile.  I  may  have  to  go 
alone,  in  which  case  I  shall  probably  make  a  short 
business  of  it.  I  shall  not  probably  come  home  till 
spring.  I  have  worked  at  German  somewhat  and 
French  a  very  little.  This  has  served  to  please  me 
with  the  idea  of  an  occupation.  I  have  been  patri 
otic  from  the  moment  I  left  the  wharf.  I  have  n't 
yet  seen  a  (country)  place  half  as  pretty  as  Cam 
bridge  —  nothing  to  compare  with  Brattle  Street, 
unless  possibly  in  Frankfort,  but  the  grounds  there 
had  all  the  publicity  of  a  considerable  city  and  are 
hardly  to  be  compared  with  the  domestic  reserve 
of  Brattle  Street. 

Paris  is  very  beautiful  in  the  way  of  a  great  city. 
The  river  is  very  straight  here  and  affords  a  fine 


TO   MRS.  JOHN   BARTLETT  103 

vista  by  day  and  night  —  the  lights  at  night  are 
very  beautiful.  The  river  as  you  know  is  bounded 
by  fine  walls  on  each  side,  and  the  space  from  the 
walls  to  the  water,  which  I  suppose  is  covered  in 
freshets,  is  paved  nicely  with  square  stone.  There 
is  great  plenty  of  little  steamers,  darting  down 
stream  or  pushing  gallantly  up,  and  there  are  here 
and  there  rows  of  trees  down  on  the  paved  shore, 
which  must  be  very  trural-rural  in  summer.  The 
Tuileries  and  Louvre  too,  situated  along  the  river, 
present  a  magnificent  front,  I  won't  venture  to  say 
how  long. 

Our  hotel  here  is  a  charming  old  place  —  simple 
and  comfortable  and  the  things  excellent  —  chops, 
omelettes  and  I  think  steaks  not  to  be  surpassed. 
I  have  a  wood  fire  in  a  little  deep  old-fashioned 
chimney,  which  returns  a  small  dividend  of  heat 
for  the  wood  invested.  James  Lowell  and  Mrs.  are 
out  this  evening  or  would  wish  to  be  remembered 
to  you  both.  I  take  the  responsibility  —  and  re 
member  them  most  kindly  to  you.  My  eyes  begin 
to  ache  —  I  have  got  to  write  tomorrow,  so,  after 
you  have  scolded  J.  B.  roundly  for  sending  so 
short  a  letter,  give  my  love  to  him,  and  then, 
addressing  the  "Bartlett  pair"  I  conclude  with, 

Yours  aff. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lowell  desire  to  be  kindly  remem 
bered  to  you  both. 


104  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

PARIS,  November  26,  1872. 

I  sent  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Bartlett  last  Thursday, 
and  now  write  to  you  in  hopes  of  receiving  bye  and 
bye  a  long  one  in  return. 

You  must  have  had  a  prodigious  time  of  it  lately, 
with  the  fire  and  the  horse  disease.1  We  got  news 
of  the  fire  very  soon,  and  shortly  after  of  its  limits. 
It  seems  almost  invidious  to  be  congratulated  for 
escape  from  a  calamity  in  which  so  many  of  your 
neighbors  suffered;  nevertheless  I  will  tell  you  that 
I  am  glad  you  have  escaped.  I  suppose  you  re 
moved  your  stock,  if  that  was  possible  in  the  want 
of  horse-power.  One  hardly  knows  what  to  say 
after  such  an  event,  more  than  that  he  is  sorry  for 
all  the  sufferers.  It  calls  out  the  manly  fortitude 
of  thousands  whom  words  don't  avail.  The  suffer 
ing  from  losses,  disappointments  in  plans,  and  the 
weary  labor  of  reconstruction  of  business  and 
buildings  and  everything  must  be  terrible.  And 
what  a  new  view  this  fire  gives  of  the  tenure  of 
property.  When  I  heard  of  the  first  reports  which 
announced  the  probable  general  failure  of  insur 
ance  companies,  I  felt  as  if  I  might  give  up  about 
the  greater  part  of  my  property  and  be  prepared  to 
go  on  to  a  low  diet  at  any  moment.  Accounts  are 

1  The  Great  Fire  of  Boston  occurred  November  9-10,  1872.  An 
epidemic  of  epizooty,  coming  at  the  same  time,  put  the  fire-engine 
horses  out  of  commission. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  105 

better  now.  I  received  the  Journal  of  the  llth 
today  with  a  detailed  account  of  the  fire,  which 
is  far  more  impressive  than  the  general  reports, 
received  before.  It  must  have  been  a  most  anxious 
time  with  you,  and  now  it  is  over  I  should  like  to 
have  you  tell  me  your  experience. 

I  hope  you  are  well  reinstated  now  in  comfort 
and  peace  of  mind,  otherwise  I  would  n't  ask  a 
letter  of  you.  It  is  very  little  that  I  have  asked  of 
anybody  in  that  way  I  can  assure  you;  and  don't 
you  write  me  now  if  it  is  a  burden,  but  if  you  do 
write  a  whopper  four  pages  fine.  It  won't  take  you 
more  than  an  hour  or  so.  I  am  conscious  that  I 
ought  to  tell  you  something  in  my  letter  but  have 
precious  little.  I  think  I  have  told  my  story  in  my 
letter  to  Mrs.  B.  and  have  not  much  more  than 
that,  i.e.  my  journey  ings  and  residences. 

Henry  Ware,  I  believe  I  have  said,  came  to 
Dresden  a  little  while  before  I  left,  but  I  could  n't 
walk  about  much  with  him.  I  got  quite  smart  at 
one  time  in  Dresden,  but  standing  in  the  gallery 
there,  and  afterward  taking  a  little  too  long  walk, 
put  me  all  back  again,  and  since  I  have  been  in 
Paris,  which  is  a  month  within  one  day,  I  have 
taken  but  very  short  walks,  and  seen  but  little.  In 
fact  I  have  lived  the  same  sedentary  life  as  I  have 
so  much  at  home.  I  keep  up  my  loyalty  to  Old 
Cambridge,  but  having  come  abroad  I  wish  to  see 
Italy,  and  suppose  I  shall  go  there  pretty  soon. 
James  is  very  comfortable  here  and  seems  in  no 


106  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

hurry  to  depart  and  it  is  the  same  with  myself.  Do 
tell  me  if  you  don't  get  up  some  whist.  Also 
whether  you  have  sat  on  the  piazza  this  summer 
as  much  as  ever,  and  enjoyed  it  as  well;  how  Garter 
is  —  how  Choate  is  ( and  remember  me  to  him)  and 
all  those  things  that  seem  so  homelike.  I  am  mighty 
moderate  in  my  potations  here;  wine  and  nothing 
but,  —  and  light  wine  too,  James  Lowell  the  same; 
and  tonight  as  I  sit  writing  have  nothing"  to  look 
forward  to  for  a  snifter  —  for  a  nip  —  but  the 
waterbottle — however  I  won't  be  too  good.  I  do  oc 
casionally  get  a  bottle  of  wine  up  into  my  room, — 
have  once  had  a  bottle  of  what  I  think  was  Port, 
very  good  —  not  light  wine  —  and  had  James 
Lowell  in  and  had  a  good  session.  So  much  comes 
out  on  cross  (self)  examination. 

Well  you  see  that  it  is  by  no  means  a  gay  life 
that  I  lead,  away  from  home,  though  now  a  very 
comfortable  one,  and  so  far  as  domestic  life  is  con 
cerned  a  very  pleasant  one  except  that  I  am  neces 
sarily  a  great  deal  alone.  J.  L.  has  to  go  out  a  good 
deal  and  I  cannot  of  course  accompany  him. 

Paris  is  more  beautiful  than  I  remembered  it  to 
be  and  a  more  solid  city  than  London,  if  stone  is 
considered  more  massive  than  brick. 

The  river  (which  I  am  very  near  to)  runs  very 
straight  through  the  city,  affording  a  fine  vista  up 
and  down. 

It  is  enclosed  all  along  within  solid  walls,  with 
fine  broad  parapets  which  form  the  boundary  of 


TO  JOHN   BARTLETT  107 

wide  and  handsome  streets  on  each  side.  Then 
from  high-water  mark  is  all  handsomely  paved 
with  square  stone  down  to  low  ditto.  Looking  from 
my  side  the  Tuileries  and  Louvre  stretch  along 
opposite  some  fifth  of  a  mile,  say,  to  the  left  of  them 
a  long  grove,  a  part  I  believe  of  the  garden,  then 
handsome  buildings  as  far  as  you  can  see,  and  in  the 

distance  the       ™     (  of  Fontainebleau1  dimly  seen. 


Looking  up  the  river,  Notre  Dame,  a  grand  old 
building  as  you  know,  and  solid  handsome  buildings 
all  along  to  it.  Then  here  and  there  down  on  the 
sloping  shore  of  the  river  are  lines  of  trees  which 
rise  up  in  charming  contrast  to  inflexible  stone  all 
about.  It  is  12|  P.M.  If  you  can  stand  this  prosy  bit 
of  description  you  can  write  me  a  long  letter  — 
see  you  do.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Mrs.  Bartlett. 

Yours  aff.  J.  H. 

Have  you  been  Smelting?  and  if  so,  how  often? 
How  is  the  Firm?  How  is  Storer?  and  remember 
me  to  him. 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 
20/4  It  is  too  dark  to  write  —  barely  possible. 

Wednesday  afternoon, 
November  27.  3.5. 

It  is  a  rainy  day,  and  already  almost  too  dark  to 
write,  but  I  want  to  set  you  an  example  and  so 
splice  my  letter. 

1  He  meant  St.  Cloud. 


108  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  have  been  again  looking  over  the  account  of  the 
fire.  It  must  have  been  of  the  most  tremendous 
kind  —  I  suppose  that  with  a  very  large  number  of 
people  it  is  but  a  heavy  loss  and  grievous  obstruc 
tion  and  delay.  To  how  many  it  is  ruin  and  a  be 
ginning  over  again,  I  cannot  tell,  —  perhaps  you 
will  give  me  information  about  it.  I  am  waiting 
now  to  write  to  Mr.  Clark,  expecting  a  letter  to 
which  I  can  reply  —  if  you  see  him  I  wish  you 
would  ask  him  to  subscribe  liberally  for  me  if  any 
collection  is  made. 

I  am  invited  out  to  a  Thanksgiving  dinner  to 
morrow,  to  a  Mons.  Logel's  who  married  a  Boston 
lady.  I  fear  I  shall  not  enjoy  it  so  well  as  my 
Thanksgiving  dinner  of  last  year.  I  won't  write 
any  more  description  of  Paris  on  this  thin  paper; 
it  is  too  heavy.  I  will  only  mention  the  trees  all 
along  the  street  bordering  the  river.  The  Seine 
is  very  full  now  and  affords  employment  to  the 
"Standing  committee,"  which  I  frequently  join  for 
a  moment  on  my  short  expeditions  outside. 

You  ought  to  hear  the  wooden  shoes,  or  wooden- 
soled  shoes,  when  some  little  boy  takes  to  running 
in  the  comparative  stillness  of  evening.  It  sounds 
like  the  correction  which  his  mamma  applies  to  the 
little  boy's  foundation,  magnified  two  hundred  fold. 

Excuse  the  tedium  of  this  but  admire  the  quan 
tity  and  imitate  it. 

J.  L.  is  out  and  Mrs.  L.  in  her  room,  but  I  send 
both  their  regards  knowing  that  they  will  ratify. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  109 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

PARIS,  January  28,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  J.  B., — 

My  appeal  to  you  was  not  in  vain.  It  resulted  in 
a  capital  letter  which  really  gave  me  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure.  I  have  only  one  criticism  to  offer,  which 
I  advance  with  a  feeling  of  delicacy,  not  wishing  in 
the  least  to  wound  your  feelings.  If  the  6th  page 
had  been  followed  by  the  7th,  8th,  9th,  and  say  the 
10th,  it  would  have  given  a  sort  of  equilibrium  to 
the  letter  highly  artistic  and  gratifying.  Five  pages 
of  introduction  and  five  of  conclusion.  You  take 
my  idea !  You  see  yourself  how  complete  the  thing 
would  have  been!  However,  waiving  criticism 
which  is  the  art  of  discontent  I  thank  you  heartily 
for  the  incomplete  6  pages  that  you  sent.  I  really 
think  that  you  have  a  natural  turn  for  letter- 
writing  which  you  ought  to  cultivate  while  you  are 
young.  "Youth  is  the  seed-time  of  life,"  or  "Life 
is  the  seed-time  of  youth,"  or  something  of  that 
sort  —  it  runs  very  prettily  either  way. 

I  fear  —  or  rather  I  hope  —  that  your  desolation 
during  the  absence  of  your  old  friends  and  fellow 
clubbists  is  a  little  affected.  I  don't  want  you  to 
have  to  become  a  PHILOSOPHER  as  I  have  been 
forced  to  do.  It  is  to  be  sure  a  highly  honorable  and 
mysterious  sort  of  business,  but,  I  tell  you,  J.  B., 
a  hard  one  —  a  mighty  hard  one.  I  don't  wonder 
though  that  you  should  feel  a  little  of  that  solitude 


110  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

which  I  have  felt  so  much.  I  think  that  J.  R.  L. 
occasionally  casts  longing  eyes  back  on  Brattle 
Street  and  Elmwood  Avenue. 

I  was  interested  by  your  condensed  account  of 
the  horse  disease  and  the  fire,  which  truly  were 
great  phenomena  in  their  way.  I  think  I  see  a  cer 
tain  individual  with  his  leg  of  mutton  in  hand  and 
resolution  in  his  face  marching  sturdily  homeward. 
I  wish  he  had  to  do  this  four  times  a  week  at  least — 
or  its  equivalent — and  add  so  many  food-enjoying 
days  to  his  calendar. 

Some  of  these  days  I  doubt  not  that  individual 
will  gird  up  his  loins  and  write  me  a  letter,  10  to 
12mo,  and  in  such  case  let  him  throw  in  all  the 
personal  and  local  sketches  that  occur  to  him  in  a 
reflection  of  not  less  than  half  an  hour  over  not 
more  than  14  drops  of  —  I  can't  recall  the  name 
but  I  think  you  will  know  what  I  mean.  Have  you 
"reported  at  the  Centre"?  Have  you  been  to  the 
Centre  at  all?  You  ought  to  do  it  in  memory  of 
old  times  and  report  to  me. 

You  report  the  weather  mild  up  to  the  17  Decem 
ber.  Since  about  that,  you  have  had  according 
to  all  accounts  rousing  weather.  I  appoint  you 
METEOROLOGIST-GENERAL  for  the  U.S.  to  report 
to  me  personally  on  this  subject  in  not  more  than 
thirty  days  from  this  date.  By  the  way,  though  not 
specially  apropos  to  the  weather,  don't  let  me  for 
get  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  offer  which  Mr. 
Clark  reported  to  me  —  but  my  losses  were  very 


TO   JOHN  BARTLETT  111 

small  and  I  have  been  so  much  of  a  PHILOSOPHER 
in  Europe  that  my  finances  are  very  prosperous, 
but  it  was  well  done  of  you,  Old  Boy! 

Now  do  you  know  why  I  have  put  in  that  little 
expression?  I  '11  tell  you  —  All  hands,  if  they  live 
at  all,  have  got  to  carry  that  freezing  title,  and  I 
thought  I  would  take  the  first  chill  off  by  apply 
ing  it  along  with  the  warm  expression  of  my  grati 
tude. 

I  am  interested  in  all  you  say  about  your  house.1 
I  don't  know  but  you  ought  to  have  formally  con 
sulted  the  CLUB  —  and  have  obtained  a  majority 
of  voices  for  your  project!  However,  now  I  think 
of  it  the  subject  was  up  before  them  at  various 
times  and  I  don't  know  but  you  as  good  as  obtained 
leave  to  build.  If  the  proceedings  should  prove  in 
any  way  insufficient,  the  remedy  will  be  for  you  to 
call  a  meeting  for  ratification  —  and  I  should  ad 
vise  you  as  a  friend  (personal  interests  apart)  to 
take  all  possible  means  on  that  occasion  to  concili 
ate  the  good  opinion  of  the  CLUB  in  favor  of  your 
project.  I  won't  undertake  to  suggest  the  means 
of  conciliation  —  that  might  seem  indelicate,  al 
though  I  am  working  entirely  in  your  interests. 

I  presume  you  have  got  pretty  architectural  by 
this  time  and  don't  talk  of  anything  smaller  than 
pediments  and  entablatures.  I  don't  happen  to 
know  much  about  the  science  or  its  terms  —  but 

1  Mr.  Bartlett  was  building  at  165  Brattle  Street  the  house  in 
which  he  lived  during  the  rest  of  his  life. 


112  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

perhaps  you  will  accept  one  practical  hint  from  me. 
From  all  that  I  have  heard  about  our  weather  now 
is  the  time  to  put  the  friezes  into  the  house.  Don't 
fail  to  write  me  how  you  come  on  with  your 
building.  Who's  your  architect  and  ditto  carpen 
ter?  I  was  always  for  the  site  you  have  chosen.  I 
considered  the  width  of  the  lot  of  comparatively 
small  importance,  and  the  length  of  it,  with  the 
ascent  of  the  land,  of  great  importance. 

When  you  have  a  house  there  the  disproportion 
of  length  and  breadth  will  I  think  disappear,  which 
was  visible  in  the  open  lot.  I  am  very  glad  that 
you  have  fixed  on  your  enterprise,  and  on  that 
place.  Now  let  me  tell  you  that  I  received  Mrs. 
Hannah  Bartlett's  letter  last  Wednesday,  and  read 
it  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  and  gave  it  "my 
approbation"  as  a  very  good,  pleasantly  written 
piece  of  friendship,  and  I  mean  to  answer  it  very 
soon.  I  relinquished  all  ambitious  views  at  home  to 
take  up  the  hard  life  of  PHILOSOPHER  over  here, 
and  it  is  a  great  consolation  to  me  to  be  pleasantly 
remembered  by  those  I  left  in  possession  of  Home 
comfort.  I  had  not  heard  of  J.  H.'s  illness  —  the 
poor  fellow  must  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it. 

You  both  have  my  approbation  for  getting 

VACCINATED. 

I  have  not  said  anything  about  my  residence 
here  —  indeed  there  is  very  little  to  say  —  my 
movements  are  so  limited.  I  live  so  much  as  when 
I  was  at  home,  that  an  attempt  at  talk  on  that 


TO   MRS.   JOHN   BARTLETT  113 

subject  would  probably  be  only  tedious.  It  would 
do  well  enough  to  chat  about  at  home. 

I  have  written  you  a  long  letter —  if  it  proves  a 
dull  one  I  have  done  you  an  irreparable  injury. 
Why?  Why  because  when  it  is  once  read  you  can't 
un-read  it. 

When  you  feel  very  jolly  some  time  give  vent  in 
a  letter  to  me. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lowell  send  their  kind  regards  to 
you  both.  The  French  letter  will  come  I  think  bye 
and  bye. 

With  my  love  to  you  both. 

Yours  truly. 

To  MRS.  JOHN  BARTLETT 

PARIS,  February  26,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  BARTLETT,  — 

I  have  already  told  J.  B.  how  much  I  was  pleased 
with  your  letter  but  it  is  no  harm  to  repeat  it.  Yes, 
that  letter,  coming  from  the  First  Precinct — yea,  I 
may  say  from  the  very  "Centre"  (For  explanation 
of  "Centre"  apply  to  J.  B.  Esq.,  Brattle  St.)  did 
me  good  —  it  enlivened  and  refreshed  all  my  men 
tal  circulation.  And  when  you  wound  up  with 
those  apt  quotations  from  Scripture,  it  so  carried 
me  home,  that  I  felt  for  the  pew  door  to  let  myself 
out.  Yea  verily,  Sister  Bartlett,  thy  letter  was  as 
a  bundle  of  sweet  herbs  to  one  coming  out  of  the 
desert  and  as  sweet  waters  from  the  brook  Kishan. 

A  letter  from  home  should  be  just  what  yours 


114  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

is — your  little  resume  of  home  incidents  is  all  of  it 
interesting,  and  I  have  to  thank  you  for  not  for 
getting  Ben  Butler,  for  whom,  funny  as  it  may 
seem,  I  entertain  a  most  tender  regard.  I  know 
well  that  to  others  he  seems  nothing  but  a  little 
wheezing  cynic,  but  to  me  he  is  a  bunch  of  most 
sentimental  wool.1  Of  course,  I  am  pleased  to  be 
told  that  I  am  not  forgotten  at  home  —  that  is  a 
comforting  assurance  to  an  "old  gent"  whose  pres 
ence  abroad  did  not  seem  to  have  been  particularly 
expected  by  the  people  of  Europe. 

Good  wishes  are  never  out  of  season  and  I  return 
yours  —  hoping  that  you  may  both  live  in  the  new 
house  till  J.  B.  grumbles  at  the  repairs  that  time 
has  made  needful;  or  if  this  house  should  not  en 
tirely  suit  you,  that  you  may  live  to  build  a  dozen 
more,  —  within  a  radius  however  of  not  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  present  site,  —  pro 
vided  nevertheless  that  in  the  direction  of  the 
Appian  Way,  you  may  go  one  half  mile. 

Don't  think  that  I  am  going  to  forget  Nim.  Tell 
him  that  I  hear  his  bark  of  welcome  and  farewell 
even  here,  and  hope  before  long  to  hear  it  there, 
and  that  I  cordially  return  the  kind  expressions 
with  which  he  has  favored  me. 

I  should  have  mightily  liked  to  walk  about  here 
or  in  London  or  Dresden  with  you  and  J.  B.,  but  I 
have  not  once  been  in  condition  to  take  a  leisurely 

1  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  the  Massachusetts  demagogue,  who  was 
then  throwing  one  of  his  characteristic  political  somersaults. 


TO   MRS.   JOHN   BARTLETT  115 

stroll,  and  the  charm  is,  in  that,  to  take  as  much 
time  as  you  please  to  explore  and  gaze.  The  far 
thest  that  I  have  walked  was  the  other  day  with 
James  Lowell  to  Notre  Dame.  Going  up  stream 
along  the  Seine  from  our  house,  you  come  in  a 
short  half  mile  to  the  Pont  Neuf  where  the  "Isle" 
begins  and  the  bridge  bestrides  water,  land,  and 
water  again.  At  this  point  the  fanciful  part  of  Paris 
begins  for  me,  the  old  original  Paris  —  built  when 
an  island  was  desirable  as  a  defensible  position. 
As  you  stand  on  the  bridge  you  see  the  two 
branches  take  their  separate  way,  and  between 
them  the  island  rises  with  buildings  older  and  more 
irregular  than  you  have  passed  in  coming  there, 
and  so  grouped,  or  situated,  that  they  seem  to  rise 
toward  the  centre  as  if  on  an  eminence,  and  are 
something  on  the  picturesque  order.  In  the  neigh 
borhood  are  some  of  the  genuine  old  streets  of  real 
antiquity,  some  ten  feet  wide.  I  feel  a  difference 
of  about  four  hundred  years  after  passing  beyond 
Pont  Neuf,  and  consequently  become  a  very  "old 
gent."  I  have  been  used  to  think  that  people  talked 
of  the  beauty  of  Paris  because  they  had  such  gay 
times  there,  but  now,  confining  myself  to  my  own 
neighborhood  only,  I  find  a  great  deal  that  is 
charming  along  the  river,  with  its  fine  solid  walls  — 
its  well-paved  shores,  the  trees  growing  close 
thereto,  and  above  on  the  streets  bordering,  more 
numerous  trees,  broad  walks,  and  I  will  add,  not 
as  a  beauty,  but  as  a  most  effective  accompaniment 


116  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

of  beauty,  the  frequent  seats  at  regular  intervals. 
I  should  be  ungrateful  to  omit  them  for  I  have 
proved  their  value  extensively.  The  Garden  of  the 
Tuileries,  about  as  far  from  us  as  Gardiner  Hub- 
bard's  house  from  you,  offers  first,  a  certain  show 
of  garden,  and  then  a  veritable  wood  as  long  as 
from  your  house  to  Elmwood  Avenue  and  four  or 
five  hundred  feet  wide.  Cords  upon  cords  of  chairs 
are  stacked  there  to  await  warm  weather,  and  I 
saw  a  regiment  of  them  that  had  been  beautified 
for  the  season  as  I  passed  the  other  day,  and  have 
felt  warmer  ever  since.  The  buildings  are  of  a  soft 
pale  stone  that  hardens  by  ex[posure]. 

As  to  people,  you  know  that  they  have  in  the 
main  the  same  appearance  here  as  in  Boston.  The 
ouvriers  wear  very  commonly  a  short  white  linen 
frock  —  the  women  who  carry  vegetables,  fish,  etc. 
in  handcarts  or  baskets,  go  bare-headed  (that  is 
wear  only  caps),  and  the  very  young  children  that 
you  see  in  doorways,  or  making  short  excursions 
on  the  sidewalk,  wear  something  equivalent  to  a 
tight  fitting  night-cap  —  which  I  presume  it  is, 
after  7  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

The  guests  at  our  hotel  are  almost  entirely 
French.  J.  L.  understands  their  conversation  and 
joins  in  it.  Mrs.  L.  understands  it  and  talks  a  little. 
I  don't  understand  it  and  confine  myself  to  the 
expressions  of  the  countenance,  which  I  make  as 
knowing  as  I  can.  There  is  no  dog,  no  cat  in  the 
house,  or  I  should  send  their  international  regards 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  117 

to  Nim  without  consulting  them.  Cats  so  far  as  I 
can  judge  are  quite  scarce  here  and  deem  it  expedi 
ent  apparently  to  keep  dark.  Small  dogs  are  reason 
ably  plenty  and  present  a  fair  average  I  should  say 
of  intelligence.  I  saw  one  little  fellow  stop  and  look 
through  the  railing  of  the  bridge  as  something  was 
passing,  with  such  a  critical  air,  that  I  should  n't  be 
surprised  if  he  kept  the  run  of  business  on  the  river. 

I  will  trust  to  your  excellent  temper  not  to  be 
irritated  with  the  prosy  details  of  this  letter  —  you 
wrote  me  a  pleasant  and  a  long  letter  —  I  felt 
bound  to  write  you  at  least  a  long  one,  which  I  may 
say  this  is.  I  have  not  been  to  Italy  yet,  expect  to 
go  soon. 

Give  my  love  to  J.  B. 

Very  truly, 

Your  old  friend. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

LONDON,  June  9,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES,  — 

I  let  the  first  interrupted  place  of  date  stand  as 
evidence  of  my  long  stay  in  Paris.  It  will  be  a  fort 
night  tomorrow  since  I  set  out  for  Embden  at  3 
or  thereabouts,  while  you  were,  I  fear,  having  a 
dull  time  of  it  at  Chartres.  It  was  a  dull  day,  at 
home  or  abroad.  I  was  in  Embden  the  next  eve 
ning  at  about  6,  after  seeing  a  good  deal  of  poor 
country  as  I  neared  my  place  of  destination,  and 
any  number  of  black  and  white  cattle.  It  was  cold 


118  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

as  Greenland  when  I  entered  the  Maison  Blanche, 
a  hotel  of  moderate  pretentions  —  which  it  sus 
tains  very  well.  What  with  the  cold,  autumnal 
evening,  the  ordinary-looking  house  —  the  muddy 
bed  of  the  canal  footing  my  windows,  deserted  by 
the  tide  —  I  felt  an  intense  dreariness  as  I  took 
possession  of  my  chamber  and  received  my  water 
for  shaving  in  a  small  bowl  —  but  on  going  down  I 
found  a  good  dinner  —  after  dinner  I  found  a  De 
Ruyter  (relative  of  the  famous  one).  De  Ruyter 
directed  me  to  the  British  Consul,  perhaps  [illeg 
ible]  who  received  me  very  pleasantly  and  con 
vinced  me  that  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  learn 
in  Embden.  I  came  home,  and  finding  jolly  De 
Ruyter  (another  habitue  of  this  tavern)  in  com 
pany  with  some  of  his  old  cronies,  transferred  my 
self  to  my  room  —  where  I  made  some  little  experi 
ments  on  the  nature  and  properties  of  Schiedam, 
and  passed  a  placid  evening  conscious  of  the  good 
work  /  was  doing.  The  next  morning  I  was  off  at 
about  8  for  Rotterdam,  where  I  arrived  at  evening. 
—  Next  day  secured  passage  and  sailed  for  Lon 
don  (Friday,  May  30)  where  I  arrived  on  Satur 
day  noon  and  took  up  my  quarters  as  near  as  I 
could  to  my  old  room.  On  Wednesday  evening, 
June  4,  I  set  forth  for  Edinbro,  where  I  arrived 
pretty  early  next  morning  —  drove  about  a  good 
part  of  the  day  and  had  a  nice  time  —  quite  a  glori 
ous  time  for  an  "old  gent."  On  Friday  morning  at 
10|  o'clock  or  so  set  forth  again.  Stopped  at  York 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  119 

and  tried  to  find  Henry  Ware,  in  vain;  I  sent  the 
Boots  of  the  Royal  Inn  twice  forth  and  twice  he 
returned  from  a  bootless  search.  So  at  evening  I 
resumed  my  route  and  arrived  in  London  at  an 
early  morning  hour.  At  about  7  o'clock  of  this 
Saturday  evening,  June  7,  I  was  off  again  for 
Oxford  —  where  I  arrived  by  10  or  so  —  was  about 
the  town  a  good  deal,  yesterday  (Sunday). — 
Heard  a  part  of  a  sermon  in  the  forenoon,  in  the 
afternoon  same,  and  at  8.30  was  off  for  London 
again. 

When  I  returned  here  I  found  a  number  of  let 
ters  in  limbo  at  the  B[arings']  —  whether  because 
I  had  omitted  "till  further  notice"  or  not  — no 
matter.  There  was  one  from  the  Gurneys  —  in 
which  he,  the  Dean,  speaks  of  you  as  "that  best  of 
friends"  in  wishing,  as  I  recollect,  to  be  remem 
bered  to  you. 

So  far,  I  have  written  with  your  favorite  quill 
pen  —  with  consequences  which  you  behold.  I  am 
quite  busy  with  the  little  matters  that  have  to  be 
done  before  I  go  to  Liverpool. 

.  .  .  (What  seems  such  a  blot  above,  is  you  see 
a  plan  of  Edinburgh  drawn  up  for  you  —  I  don't 
think  I  should  have  made  it  without  a  quill  pen.) 
Remember  me  kindly  to  my  old  instructress  and 
fellow  pupil,  who  I  trust  is  fully  enjoying  the  sum 
mer  (I  came  near  calling  it  spring  —  it  does  n't  feel 
summery  here  yet). 

I  look  back  pleasantly  on  my  old  abode  in  Rue  de 


120  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Beaune,  with  its  various  portraits  among  which 
Battiste  is  prominent, — moving  solemnly  about, 
—  I  may  say  stalking,  to  the  performance  of  his 
daily  tasks.  Remember  me  pleasantly  to  the  house 
hold.  Also  convey  my  regards  to  the  Marquis  — 
our  friendship  is  a  sentimental  one  founded  on 
friendly  glances  across  the  table  —  and  rather  in 
jured  than  advanced  by  any  talk  we  may  have 
had — so  waft  him  from  me  a  pleasant  sentimental 
recollection  of  him  with  his  friendly  smile  on.  ... 
Well,  go  thy  way  James,  use  tobacco  and  other 
aids  to  conduct,  freely  and  I  shall  hope  to  see  thee 
one  of  these  days  with  a  handle  to  thy  name.  And 
am 

Thine  truly. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  29,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES,  — 

You  have  no  doubt  expected  to  hear  from  me 
before  this,  and  would  that  I  had  been  in  writing 
mood;  but  I  have  been  a  good  way  from  it.  I  sailed 
as  perhaps  you  know  on  the  12th  of  June.  I  was 
full  of  the  hope  of  indulging  my  home  sentimental- 
ism  to  the  top  of  my  bent.  I  meant  to  perambulate 
the  old  familiar  places  and  indulge  myself  in  sober 
revery,  but  when  I  arrived,  my  leg  bothered  me 
somewhat  more  than  it  had  and  I  was  forced  to 
keep  pretty  quiet,  indeed  have  not  yet  quitted  that 
regimen,  though  better.  Meanwhile  the  senti- 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  121 

mental  aroma  evaporated.  I  tired  myself  with 
small  pursuits  in  my  hot  room  and  finally  fell  into 
a  rather  melancholy  mood  from  which  I  hope  I  am 
now  emerging.  I  can  walk  better  now,  as  I  have 
once  before  said. 

So  much  for  the  psychological  and  physical  — 
now  for  that  which  doth  peculiarly  belong  to  the 
experienced  traveller  —  the  incidental.  Well  in  the 
first  place;  while  you  were  inspecting  the  Cathedral 
of  Chartres  under  an  umbrella,  I  was  by  3  o'clock 
on  my  way  to  Embden.  I  found  it  a  long  ride,  last 
ing  till  6  or  7  the  next  evening.  I  found  mighty 
little  in  the  way  of  family  information,1  but  I  met 
at  the  tavern  a  worthy  and  jolly  collateral  descend 
ant  of  De  Ruyter,  himself  of  that  name.  We  con 
versed  fluently  in  elegant  French.  I  tried  the 
Schiedam  of  the  locality  and  found  it  good.  I  went 
to  bed  a  cheerful  man,  though  quite  dreary  when  I 
first  arrived.  The  next  day  I  posted  off  (via  R.R.) 
for  Rotterdam,  engaged  passage  the  next  day  and 
departed  at  noon,  entirely  satisfied  with  the  dura 
tion  of  my  stay  at  Rotterdam.  The  next  day, 
at  noon  or  thereabouts,  I  was  reinstated  at  the 
Tavistock.  I  asked  for  my  old  room  and  got  the 
next  but  one  to  it,  and  afterward  got  my  old  room 
back.  It  was  odd  that  my  mostly  dreary  residence 
there  last  year  afforded  a  basis  for  quite  a  home 
feeling  at  this  time.  June  5  I  went  to  Edinboro. 

1  According  to  tradition,  some  of  Holmes's  Dutch  ancestors  lived 
in  Embden. 


122  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Stopped  at  York  in  returning;  made  a  very  pleas 
ant  trip  of  it.  Saturday,  7th,  I  ran  down  to  Oxford 
at  evening  and  came  back  the  next  evening.  By 
taking  proper  precautions  I  escaped  having  a  de 
gree  conferred  on  me. 

Henry  Ware  and  wife  and  sisters  came  home  in 
the  Siberia.  We  had  a  nasty  cold  roughish,  foggish 
passage,  with  a  very  good,  civilized,  not  numerous 
company.  We  arrived  on  Tuesday  24  toward  eve 
ning,  and  I  found  Mr.  Clark  on  hand  with  a  coach 
which  soon  restored  me  to  my  old  residence  in  the 
Appian  Way.  I  found  that  the  spring  had  been  cold 
and  excessively  dry;  the  grass  looked  dolefully. 

I  found  all  friends  well.  I  have  seen  the  Gurneys 
but  once,  very  soon  after  arrival  —  they  were  in 
excellent  condition  and  seemed  pleased  to  see  me 
home.  Gurney  was  overworked  a  little,  you  know, 
at  one  time,  and  unwell.  J.  B.  welcomed  me  cor 
dially  to  his  piazza,  which  I  have  frequented  of 
evenings  since.  He  goes  into  his  new  house  in  Au 
gust.  He  says  he  was  very  solitary  after  we  went — 
he  is  in  very  good  condition  now,  quite  rotund. 

Now  I  expect  you  in  return  for  this  small  letter 
to  give  me  wealth  of  talk  about  yourself  and  Mrs. 
Lowell,  what  you  have  done  and  what  you  are 
doing. 

I  saw  an  account  of  your  dignification  at  Oxford 
and  that  there  was  enthusiasm.1  Do  let  me  have  a 

1  Oxford  University  conferred  on  Lowell  the  degree  of  D.C.L.  in 
1873. 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  123 

fuller  account.  If  you  are  still  at  the  Hotel  de 
France  et  de  Lorraine,  do  bring  your  domestic  his 
tory  there  up  to  this  point,  and  if  not,  to  the  time 
at  which  you  left.  Commend  me  most  particularly 
to  my  comrade  and  fellow  pupil  in  the  path  of 
knowledge,  Mrs.  Fanny  Lowell,  and  if  our  vener 
able  teacher  should  be  in  your  neighborhood  re 
member  me  respectfully  to  a  hard  man,  but  a  just 
and  a  thorough  one.  Remember  me  to  our  friend 
the  Marquis  —  and  lastly  if  you  let  the  household 
know  that  you  have  heard  from  me  —  let  them 
know  that  I  remember  them  well. 

I  am  in  at  the  Doctor's  frequently;  at  Carter's, 
Underwood's,  H.  Ware's  infrequently.  The  latter 
has  recovered,  and  as  is  common  after  fever,  has 
grown  very  fat  for  him,  so  that  he  has  the  appear 
ance  of  playing  a  part  —  so  different  is  he  from  his 
former  self.  Carter  goes  on  fattening  and  to  fat 
ten — he  must  never  travel  in  the  South  Pacific 
certainly  —  they  might  make  a  pate  de  "boy"  gras 
of  him. 

Since  Christmas  we  have  had  a  rousing  winter  — 
first  we  had  on  that  day  snow  changing  to  rain, 
which  left  a  thin,  icy  floor  that  was  fair  sleighing. 
Since  that  one  heavy  snowstorm  and  two  or  three 
lesser  ones  —  we  have  had  cold  weather  too  with 
our  sleighing  almost  all  the  time  —  today  it  thaws 
a  little.  If  you  are  as  well  when  you  receive  this 
as  I  hope  you  will  be,  please  tell  me  what  your 
weather  is. 


124  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Our  club  goes  on  with  regularity,  excepting  al 
ways  the  Doctor's  interruptions,  which  continue  as 
formerly.  He  does  not  seem  to  grow  feeble  upon 
them  in  the  least  that  I  see. 

I  go  over  to  old  Mrs.  Howe's  occasionally  and 
take  a  hand  at  whist,  where  we  play  an  easy  good- 
natured  sort  of  game  that  does  not  put  my  skill  to 
the  test. 

I  look  back  with  great  delight  to  your  clubs  — 
when  we  all  foregathered  before  your  bright  sea- 
coal  fire  and  each  one  saw  three  other  such  con 
tented,  nay  hilarious  men,  for  I  think  an  observer 
could  detect  under  the  Don's  gravity  the  twinkling 
of  the  inward  eye. 

Well,  I  hope  we  shall  see  such  pleasant  times 
again  and  that  we  may,  my  dear  man,  I  hope  you 
will  resume  all  your  vigor  and  expel  all  your  pains 
and  that  we  others  shall  be  able  (unless  one  should 
be  prevented  by  corpulency)  to  receive  you  with 
that  delight  which  your  return  will  certainly  give 
us  all.  I  send  you  my  love,  regard,  esteem,  an£  or 
all  that  you  may  want.  I  gave  Charles  Storey 
your  remembrances  and  I  send  you  his  —  pledging 
my  word  that  he  will  most  cordially  ratify  when 
he  sees  me.  "Omnis  ratihabitio  retrotralatur  et 
priori  mandato  sequiparatur."  I  see  Mabel  often 
and  she  appears  to  be  in  excellent  condition.  She 
and  Sam  and  Clara  figure  in  the  sled  line  now. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MELLOW  YEARS 

AFTER  coming  home  John  Holmes  fell  comfort 
ably  back  into  the  routine  which  he  enjoyed  more 
than  foreign  travel.  Home  for  him  meant  not 
merely  the  simplest  rooms  in  which  he  lodged  at 
No.  5  Appian  Way,  or  the  little  wooden  house  itself, 
with  its  typical  inverted-V-shaped  roof  and  small 
piazza,  but  also  the  collections  of  cats  which  his 
landlady,  Miss  Tolman,  maintained  and  in  each  of 
which  he  took  the  characteristic  interest. 

"Why  don't  you  have  better  quarters,  John?" 
an  old  contemporary  asked  him  one  day. 

"  I  shan't  have  better  quarters  till  I  have  a  better 
half,"  Holmes  replied. 

The  crony  found  the  quick  repartee  so  witty 
that  he  sent  it  to  Punch  and  Punch  paid  him  lav 
ishly  for  it;  but  he  never  shared  the  check  with  the 
author  of  the  joke.  Holmes  was  not  a  money 
maker. 

John  Holmes  never  had  a  better  half.  In  his 
young  days  he  became  engaged,  but  his  fiancee  died 
of  consumption  before  they  were  married. 

Readers  unacquainted  with  Cambridge  will  per 
haps  care  to  know  that  the  little  street  which  some 
wag  dubbed  Appian  Way  —  a  name  adopted  by 
the  town  authorities  —  is  hardly  more  than  two 


126  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

hundred  yards  long  and  connects  Garden  Street 
with  Brattle  Street.  In  John  Holmes' s  tune  it  was 
flanked  by  wooden  houses,  comparatively  recent, 
and  plain  even  to  ugliness.  The  one  old  house  which 
abutted  on  it  had  a  pleasant  association  for  those 
persons  who  remembered  that  Arthur  Hugh  Clough 
lived  in  it  during  his  visit  to  Cambridge  in  1852. 

From  his  front  windows  John  Holmes  could 
watch  the  passengers  and  vehicles  on  Brattle 
Street,  only  a  few  steps  away,  and  we  may  assume 
that  he  knew  well,  by  sight  at  least,  the  troops  of 
little  children  who  frequented  the  candy  and  fruit 
store  at  the  corner.  Whether  Appian  Way  was 
given  its  name  by  some  youngster  who  imagined 
that  only  academic  fossils  inhabited  it,  or  by  some 
one  who  saw  the  irony  in  comparing  this  incon 
spicuous  lane  with  the  famous  highway  of  Imperial 
Rome,  I  know  not.  Its  eastern  end  faced  the  Cam 
bridge  Common,  where  Holmes  passed  many  hours 
strolling  along  the  paths  or  meditating  on  the 
benches.  A  stone's  throw  to  the  left  spread  the 
Washington  Elm,  still  vigorous  enough  in  his  time 
to  throw  a  little  shadow  on  Fay  House,  the  home  of 
Radcliffe  College.  To  the  right  was  Christ  Church 
and  the  ancient  burying-ground,  and  the  mock 
Gothic  steeple  of  the  Unitarian  Church.  Across  the 
way  rose  the  oldest  Harvard  buildings,  whose 
brick  walls  were  mantled  with  Japanese  ivy  which 
glowed  with  richest  red  toward  sunset  on  autumn 
afternoons. 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  127 

Northward,  half  hidden  by  its  exuberant  lilac- 
bushes,  lay  the  quaint  residence  in  which  the  great 
Dr.  Waterhouse,  equally  irascible  and  talented, 
dwelt  for  more  than  half  a  century.  Hither  Holmes 
went  often,  to  call  upon  two  very  good  friends  of 
his,  the  doctor's  granddaughters,  Louisa  L.  and 
Mary  H.  Ware.  They  used  to  sing  together  at  the 
piano.  They  had  an  annual  Latin  dinner  at  which 
they  always  spoke  in  that  language;  a  feast  at 
which  they  consumed  a  quart  of  oysters  and  drank 
a  pint  bottle  of  champagne  which  John  Holmes 
brought  in  his  pocket.  Once,  when  the  sisters  had 
the  grippe,  he  came  to  read  to  them,  choosing  as 
a  work  that  would  cheer  them  up  De  Foe's  "His 
tory  of  the  Plague  in  London." 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

August  1,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES, — 

I  think  I  can  fill  this  supplementary  half  sheet, 
though  material  is  not  plenty.  I  have  knocked 
about  a  little  lately  —  went  to  Nahant  yesterday 
to  see  Wendell,  went  to  our  friend  Mr.  Dorr's 
place  at  Canton  on  Saturday  and  staid  till  Monday. 

I  am  going  to  morrow  morning  to  Dr.  Ware's  at 
Rindge,  with  Waldo  Higginson,  to  stay  a  few  days. 
Not  walking  much,  I  have  not  been  up  by  your 
place  yet.  We  have  had  a  pretty  fair  supply  of  rain 
since  I  returned,  and  the  country  regains  its  looks. 
But  such  heat!  It  is  perfectly  sweltering,  smelting 


128  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

heat,  and  with  the  dog-day  characteristics  now 
superadded  it  is  —  language  fails  me  —  but  if  you 
can  find  a  horrid  word  enough  in  Old  French,  do 
supply  the  gap. 

The  burnt  area  in  Boston  is  being  rapidly  filled 
up.  I  went  for  the  first  time  yesterday  inside  the 
circle  and  got  some  notion  of  the  visible  limits  of 
the  fire.  The  later  fire  of  July  4  would  have  been 
considered  a  very  great  one  but  for  its  overwhelm 
ing  brother  of  November.  Do  write  me  all  about 
yourself  and  Mrs.  Lowell. 

At  this  moment  I  cannot  conjecture  where  you 
are  but  I  will  guess  Rue  de  Beaune,  whither  you 
have  probably  gravitated  back  from  England. 

I  want  to  go  up  by  your  house  and  see  how  lonely 
it  seems  without  you.  As  I  came  up  (per  Steamer 
Meta)  yesterday,  from  Nahant,  I  saw  a  large  fire 
at  E.  Boston,  which  you  will  have  seen  chronicled 
before  you  get  this. 

I  am  told  that  Mr.  Emerson  had  a  reception  at 
the  Station  in  Concord  and  that  he  enquired  of  his 
daughter  what  was  the  meaning  of  all  those  people 
being  there.1 

I  deposited  20  pounds  to  your  credit  with  Mr. 
Wellman  the  other  day.  I  told  him  that  it  was  a 
debt  you  had  been  in  no  hurry  about. 

Remember  me  to  Mrs.  L. 

Yours. 

1  Mr.  Emerson,  whose  memory  had  failed,  returned  to  Concord  in 
May  from  a  foreign  tour. 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  129 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  18,  1874. 

Yours  of  December  24  in  reply  to  mine  of  Au 
gust  (I  having  landed  in  June)  and  now  mine  of 
March  18  in  reply  to  yours  of  December  24.  "All 
this  I  say,"  to  use  the  style  of  Bishop  Butler,  indi 
cates  a  couple  of  centenarians.  And  yet  "by  gin 
ger"  (Lowell)  we  are  not  that  yet,  no  Sir  (ree) 
(Occidentalism).  For  my  part  give  me  a  good  fire, 
a  clean  hearth  and  the  utmost  leniency  of  the 
game,  and  I  am  as  good,  pro  hac  vice  (Latin  Author), 
as  any  juvenile,  and  I  will  take  upon  me  to  say  at 
least  as  much  for  you.  For  the  intervals  between 
such  spaces  of  serious  employment  they  may  go 
heavier  with  me  than  once,  but  when  past  they 
seem  to  have  escaped  nimbly  enough.  Your  reflec 
tions  on  the  lapse  of  time  have  started  mine.  Let 
me  ease  your  mind  about  my  hair.  By  dint  of  hav 
ing  small  quantities  clipped  for  a  good  while,  I  have 
accumulated  a  monstrous  amount;  —  it  is  erratic 
and  tempestuous  and  gives  me  much  trouble.  I 
would  gladly  contract  to  thatch  half  a  dozen  bald- 
heads  if  they  would  pay  the  barber's  bill,  which  I 
assure  you  would  be  something  serious. 

You  speak  of  hot  punch — I  should  have  got  a 
good  deal  more  of  it  if  I  had  n't  foolishly  asked 
in  a  friend  of  well-known  bibulous  power.  I  wish 
I  could  have  been  in  Venice  with  you.  We  would 
have  fought  the  prose  elements  before  which  I 


130  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

succumbed  —  the  Boston  east  wind,  the  hotel 
life,  etc. 

My  thanks  to  you  both  for  recollecting  me  occa 
sionally  and  to  you  for  vicarious  charity.  I  revel 
in  the  idea  of  it  —  it  makes  me  enthusiastically 
benevolent.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that  you 
want  so  much  to  come  home.  I  like  the  sentiment. 
Come  on. 

Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  a  word  about  Oxford 
and  the  degree?  but  I  know  you  did  n't  wish  to 
appear  "sot  up"  (Lowell). 

I  think  I  should  feel  more  at  home  if  you  would 
come,  especially  if  you  would  cease  to  read  forever 
the  old  French.  I  hope  you  have  pretty  well  read 
out,  over  there. 

You  are  good  man  desipere  in  loco  when  you  set 
out.  You  have  no  half  way  there,  but  of  late  years 
you  have  not  set  out  enough. 

My  knee  (in  answer  to  your  hope-expressed)  is 
better,  and  I  am  hoping  to  walk  again  comfortably. 
I  have  given  your  love  to  the  Club. 

There  have  been  no  great  changes  here.  Old  Mr. 
Buttrick  has  died.  Mr.  Foster  has  been  ill  of  pneu 
monia  and  recovered.  He  is  90  years  old.  Charles 
Elliot  (married  Mary  White)  has  been  down  with 
the  same  disease  for  about  six  weeks;  has  just  now 
somewhat  recovered  his  strength. 

I  went  the  other  day,  Monday  9th,  to  the  wed 
ding  of  Elizabeth  Sparks  —  married  to  Edward 
Pickering.  As  I  was  coming  away  I  encountered 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  131 

Anna  Buttrick  and  had  some  little  talk  with  her, 
the  first  for  a  long  time.  She  left  J.  B.'s  perhaps 
before  we  went  abroad.  She  has  lately  taken  charge 
of  affairs  for  Mr.  Cushman,  and  seems  to  be  very 
well  situated. 

J.  B.  is  now  an  old  settler  in  his  new  house. 

I  have  not  seen  the  Gurneys  much  this  winter  on 
account  of  distance,  but  have  kept  pleasantly  along 
with  them.  The  same  with  the  Norlons.  I  have 
seen  them  but  once;  I  hope  to  see  them  this  evening 
and  to  hear  from  you  through  them,  which  I  have 
been  promised.  I  hear  at  this  moment  the  old  tinkle 
of  the  college  bell.  I  hope  that  after  such  a  surfeit 
of  abroad,  that  will  have  a  charm  for  you. 

I  have  not  alluded  to  your  particular  loss,  here, 
Mrs.  Anna  Lowell.  I  felt  very  sorry  that  I  had  not 
seen  her  since  I  came  home. 

I  went  in  to  Mary  Howe's  on  Monday  to  see 
Charles  Sumner's  funeral  procession.  It  was  im 
mensely  long  and  there  were  a  great  many  people 
collected  along  the  route.  I  saw  the  Doctor  last 
evening;  he  could  n't  speak  with  any  confidence  of 
his  probable  successor.1 

Thursday  19th. 

I  took  a  coach  (Lowell)  last  evening  and  went  to 
Charles  Norton's,  sat  a  little  in  his  room  with  him 
and  talked  of  you;  inter  alia — found  that  you  were 
in  Rome.  Why  did  n't  you — but  I  find  that  I  have 

1  George  F.  Boutwell  succeeded  Sumner  as  Senator. 


132  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

asked  the  question  about  Oxford  once.  You  won't 
be  right  till  your  foot  is  on  your  "native  heather." 

Let  him  return  to  his  native  heather.  Anon.  If  I 
could  only  have  sauntered  at  leisure,  I  should  tickle 
your  homesickness  to  purpose  with  sentimental 
sketches  of  Cambridge  haunts,  from  Simon's  Hill 
to  Kidder's  Swamp. 

They  have  cut  down  the  elms  near  the  Tremont 
House  (Boston).  The  whole  community  was  Pad 
dock  or  Anti-Paddock  for  some  time.  You  hear 
little  bursts  of  declamation  occasionally  now,  but 
the  gist  of  the  matter  is  gone.  Everybody  (almost) 
bends  to  the  sweep  of  an  idea  going  at  hurricane 
rate  in  our  country,  but  it  makes  a  good  deal  of 
hypocrisy.  I  believe  there  are  hosts  of  pretended 
tree-lovers  who  hate  a  tree  in  their  hearts. 

I  don't  doubt  that,  however  often  under  the 
weather,  you  enjoy  Mrs.  Lowell's  enjoyment  like  a 
good  husband  and  good  man.  Don't  fail  to  remem 
ber  her  fellow  pupil  kindly  to  her.  We  are  having 
to  day,  as  we  have  had  ever  so  much  this  winter, 
warm  (and  of  course  muddy)  weather.  I  have  my 
window  open  to  balance  a  small  fire.  If  I  have 
omitted  to  tell  you  about  any  thing  in  particular, 
write  instantly  and  I  will  correct  it  in  my  next. 

With  love  to  both  of  you  and  hopes  of  speedy 
return. 

I  am  not  sure  of  your  Oxford  title,  which  I  sup 
pose  I  ought  to  put  on  my  letter.  So  you  must  be 
content  with  the  universal  Squire. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  133 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  8,  1874. 
MY  DEAR  JAMES  AND  MRS.  LOWELL,  — 

I  want  to  write  a  short  letter  to  serve  as  a  sort  of 
preface  to  your  return.  And  the  first  thing  to  do 
is  to  welcome  you  heartily  in  advance.  I  doubt  not 
that  Doctor  Lowell  will  feel  a  hearty  glow  of  op- 
pidanism  as  he  treads  Brattle  Street  again,  and 
Mrs.  Lowell  all  that  can  be  expected  from  a  trans 
planted  citizeness.  Cambridge  was  once  a  fortified 
town. 

Not  a  hand  has  been  raised  at  whist  since  you 
have  been  away.  No  attempt  has  been  made  to 
reconstitute  the  club  beyond  some  overtures  made 
by  J.  B.  to  Storer,  who  was  preoccupied  with  an 
other  club. 

Spring  has  been  coming  along  with  her  or  his 
usual  grim  front 

"With  fear  of  colds 
Perplexing  patients." 

But  you  and  I  (addressing  James)  are  "to  the 
manor  born."  A  good  strong  wind  at  northeast  is 
to  us  pansies  and  violets.  We  don't  mind  if  the 
blue  of  the  latter  flower  resides  somewhere  else;  it 
is  spring,  lawful  spring,  recognized  by  the  Almanac 
and  fixed  by  Revised  Statutes.  They  can  have  cold 
winds  abroad  as  found  at  Venice. 

You  never  cared  much  for  village  news  and  there 
is  precious  little  of  it.  We  have  a  new  minister,  son 


134  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

of  Mr.  Peabody  of  King's  Chapel  —  seems  to  be  a 
very  nice  man,  sensible,  even,  and  not  too  conscious 
of  himself.1 

I  have  told  you  I  suppose  how  J.  B.  is  in  his  new 
house,  mighty  handsome.  Hannah  joyous  as  ever, 
driving  with  the  span,  hither  and  thither,  and  trot 
ting  her  friends,  sound  and  invalid,  about. 

All  that  I  have  heard  say  that  you  have  sent  us 
a  noble  poem,  and  I  agree  with  them.2 

I  have  always  felt  sorry  that  we  did  not  visit  the 
young  barrister  (I  forget  the  name)  that  day  we 
went  to  the  Foundling;  it  was  my  lameness  hin 
dered,  I  think. 

I  wish  you  would  remember  me,  if  you  have  a 
chance,  to  my  old  acquaintance  and  friends  at 
"Hotel  de  France  et  de  Lorraine,"  the  Marquis, 
Monsieur  and  Madame,  Mademoiselle  of  the 
Bureau  Clarisse,  etc.  If  you  should  have  to  make 
a  call  on  Dr.  Burridge,  kind  regards  to  him. 

If  it  were  made  a  condition  of  your  prompt  re 
turn,  that  I  should  deliver  an  Oration,  I  would  do 
it,  tickets  deliverable  only  to  citizens  and  'esses  of 
Cambridge  origin  and  not  less  than  fifty  years  old. 
I  should  have  to  read  it. 

Honorable  Man !  Why  have  you  wandered  so  far 
from  your  native  shores?  Was  it  to  explore  the 
realms  of  modern  science?  Or  was  it  to  disport  in 

1  Rev.  Francis  G.  Peabody,  Harvard  A.B.  1869,  remained  as  pas 
tor  of  the  First  Parish  Church,  Cambridge,  until  1880. 

2  This  probably  refers  to  Lowell's  poem  on  Agassiz,  printed  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  for  May,  1874. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  135 

the  gaieties  of  a  foreign  world?  etc.,  etc.  No!  thou 
wentest  that  the  longing  sages  of  the  old  world 
might  enjoy  thy  converse,  and  wreathe  the  laurel, 
etc.,  etc. 

Danforth  would  applaud  handsomely.  He  has 
very  much  lost  his  mind  and  is  no  longer  a  judge 
of  style. 

I  trust  I  sent  you  in  my  last  most  hearty  love 
and  remembrance  from  the  Gurneys.  If  I  did  not 
it  goes  with  this. 

Henry  Ware  went  to  Egypt  with  a  rich  invalid 
last  fall  and  is  expected  home  very  soon. 

I  dote  on  the  view  of  and  across  our  old  Charles 
as  I  go  up  our  Brattle  Street. 

Mr.  Longfellow's  jugera  in  front  of  his  house  are 
a  blessing  to  sentimental  wayfarers. 

I  am  no  letter-writer.  Come  home  and  we  will 
chat  pleasantly  and  amiably,  under  the  Green 
wood  tree,  by  the  fire,  or  along  the  way.  You 
know  you  will  be  most  heartily  welcomed  back. 
Come  on. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  15,  1876. 

In  a  far-off  country  and  in  the  very  central  vor 
tex  of  our  politics,  I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  to 
have  a  word  from  a  Constituent. 

I  have  been  for  a  day  or  two  living  between 
Salem  and  Cambridge  in  a  manner  that  somewhat 
affects  my  identity — that  is — whether  J.  H.  of  C. 


136  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

or  J.  H.  of  S.,  has  become  a  question.  But  I  write 
to  you  in  the  name  of  J.  H.  of  C.,  one  of  your 
Constituents. 

I  went  to  Andover  yesterday  to  help  many  a 
young  friend,  and  having  put  my  very  best  work 
into  it,  am  somewhat  exhausted.  Very  few  people 
understand  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  one 
who  is  called  as  witness  to  the  solemn  service  of 
matrimony.  As  you  are  very  busy,  I  shall  not  en 
large  on  this  farther  than  to  say,  that  in  the  highest 
view  of  this  function,  one  is  bound  to  furnish  the 
proper  attention,  sympathy  (and  therefore  emo 
tion)  at  every  stage  of  the  process.  If  it  is  in  his 
power  to  secure  an  end  of  the  matrimonial  cable? 
ligament?  and  he  can  get  any  purchase,  it  is  his 
duty  to  haul  with  all  his  might  and  make  the  knot 
hard  and  fast.  I  shall  say  no  more  except  that  few 
understand  this  matter,  and  that  from  long  obser 
vation  and  practice  I  think  I  do,  and  to  say  that  I 
am  much  exhausted  by  my  efforts  is  enough. 

I  sat  in  G.  B.'s  porch  last  evening,  and  he  re 
ported  the  Convention  to  me.  I  know  that  you  will 
do  rightly,  because  you  will  be  sure  to  do  what  you 
think  right.  Don't  give  the  Democrats  any  chance 
to  come  in,  for  that  way  in  my  opinion  sadness  and 
badness  lie;  but  for  all  else  I  doubt  not  you  will 
give  the  Convention  a  good  dose  of  outspokenness 
and  manliness  according  to  your  opportunity.  It 
makes  quite  an  epoch  to  get  a  man  of  your  stamp 
into  such  a  convocation. 


TO  J.   R.   LOWELL  137 

So  my  dear  James,  keep  thy  head  cool,  thy  feet 
warm.  .  .  . 

If  thou  choosest  to  return  incog,  (as  it  were), 
do  so;  but  say  the  word  and  the  Club  shall  meet 
thee  with  trump  and  banner  in  full  force. 

We  all  wish  thee  back  and  are  Thine,  affection 
ately  J.  H. 

(and  five  hundred  others) 

This  last  letter  refers  to  the  fact  that  Lowell  went 
as  a  delegate  to  the  Republican  Convention  at 
Cincinnati.  He  went  as  a  Reformer,  in  the  hope 
of  nominating  Mr.  Bristow;  but  Gov.  R.  B.  Hayes 
was  the  nominee,  and  after  his  disputed  election, 
Hayes,  among  many  other  admirable  appointments, 
made  Lowell  American  Minister  to  Spain.  Lowell 
quitted  Cambridge  for  his  post  in  July,  1877. 
Holmes  rejoiced  in  the  honor  bestowed  upon  his 
friend,  but  he  felt  his  absence  more  and  more. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  21,  1877. 
I  received  your  very  delightful  letter  yesterday 
at  5.11,  as  recorded  on  the  back  of  the  same.  I 
enjoyed  it  to  the  last  line.  It  is,  as  the  country  boys 
who  lived  with  us  used  to  say,  a  master  good  letter. 
The  restoration  of  the  old  picture  of  our  hotel  life 
in  the  persons  of  Mons.  Carrier  and  Madame  and 
the  rest,  Clarisse  excepted,  is  charming.  I  am  glad 
that  there  is  so  much  conservation  left  in  this  world 


138  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

of  change.  The  idea  of  Josef's  admiring  gaze  at 
Mons.  Carrier  is  your  own.  I  witnessed  the  face 
but  took  no  note  of  the  expression  and  coloring. 
It  is  a  delightful  idea  —  the  knight  and  his  squire 
attenuated  to  this  point.  Josef  sharpens  and  pre 
sents  the  weapon,  and  admires  Carrier's  delicate 
dissection  with  the  same  enthusiasm  that  one  of 
the  old  school  expended  on  a  chine-cleaving  blow; 
and  if  I  recollect  rightly  Carrier  economically  blows 
the  trumpet  in  defiance  and  conquest  for  himself 
after  a  triumphant  pinch  —  but  I  won't  be  sure. 
Then  our  stout  little  woman  in  the  Kiosk:  I  am 
pleased  to  know  that  she  survives  Pierrot  whom 
I  had  not  heard  of.  Cood  little  woman  with  her 
fancies  of  chevres,  moutons  and  the  rest,  may  she 
have  some  oriental  piece  of  luck  corresponding  to 
her  habitation  that  will  give  her  her  goats  without 
a  butt  or  an  if,  and  all  the  rest  the  same. 

I  won't  recapitulate  your  letter  to  you  any  more 
except  to  sympathize  for  the  horrid  night  you  must 
have  spent  in  Carrier's  shirt  with  your  baggage  in 
abeyance.  I  can  imagine  the  dreams  you  had  after 
the  boiled  beef,  how  you  grappled  with  Carrier 
who  came  to  demand  his  garment  saying  that  the 
Commune  had  risen  and  he  was  going  to  fly  with 
all  his  effects  —  how  you  met  the  faithless  courier 
and  harikarid  him  in  the  street  —  were  tried  to 
your  great  surprise  before  Judge  Ladd,  and  still 
more  to  your  astonishment,  when  you  had  arrived 
in  due  course  of  law  at  the  guillotine,  found  J.  B. 


TO  J.  R.   LOWELL  139 

Dana  to  be  the  executioner,  who  demanded  50  cents 
as  your  acknowledgment  of  the  deed  he  was  going 
to  do. 

Don't  forget  to  tell  me  at  your  convenience, 
whether  you  did  not  rather  enjoy  the  amicable 
bustification  at  your  departure.  I  think  on  the 
whole  "you'd  ought  ter,"  to  use  a  familiar  dialect. 

Well,  now  we  have  heard  that  you  have  made 
your  appearance  before  the  King  and  made  him  a 
speech  which  I  warrant  you  was  a  good  one. 

I  have  n't  said  a  word  about  your  departure  from 
Boston.  I  did  n't  know  when  the  vessel  was  to  sail, 
but  I  went  over  to  E.  Boston  and  found  she  had 
gone.  I  found  by  the  paper  that  you  had  an  abun 
dant  attendance  of  literary  friends  —  and  I  rather 
think  you  found  the  hullaballoo  agreeable  enough. 
I  am  glad  that  I  did  n't  go  with  them  and  also  glad 
that  I  made  the  pilgrimage  to  the  wharf  —  or 
rather  near  to  it;  for  a  man  told  me  the  steamer  had 
gone. 

You  know  you  disliked  the  idea  of  the  row  they 
were  going  to  make,  but  I  should  think  that  with 
the  provision  made  against  speeches,  you  might 
have  quite  enjoyed  it.  A  little  honorary  powder, 
too,  is  n't  a  bad  thing.  Thence  our  expression  of  a 
man's  making  some  noise  in  the  world. 

Cambridge  is  in  a  primaeval  condition,  'bating 
the  forest  and  some  other  particulars.  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  say  the  solitude  is  primaeval.  The  fruit 
men  give  the  principal  signs  of  vitality.  Peaches, 


140  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

is  the  great  cry  at  present,  three  quaats  for  a 
quaater.  I  have  been  to  Princeton  (a  week), 
Charles  Ware's  ten  days;  with  C.  W.  Storey,  at  his 
son-'s  house  in  Brookline,  2  days.  I  have  been 
pretty  low  down  in  the  forties,  to  speak  figuratively 
and  have  had  maybe  a  foretaste  of  weariness  of 
life  some  of  the  time.  But  what's  the  use  of  being 
a  philosopher  unless  you  have  material  to  philos 
ophize  upon?  Notwithstanding  this  melancholy 
statement,  I  went  last  Wednesday  to  a  clambake 
near  Providence  with  J.  B.  and  laid  on  like  a  Cos 
sack,  as  J.  B.  did  also.  We  had  thought  of  going  to 
Newport  but  it  rained  and  we  came  home. 

I  have  been  just  now  looking  at  some  of  the 
colonial  squabbles  in  Dudley's  time.  I  find  under 
1690,  "the  Malignant  party,  the  Torys  in  Boston, 
Charlestown,"  etc.  Under  1707,  a  Tory  defender 
of  Dudley  quotes  from  a  Whig  assailant  the  fol 
lowing:  "We  shall  not  recriminate  here  the  mis 
management  of  the  then  Governour  Sir  Edmond 
Andross,  since  that  gentleman  is  now  in  a  future 
state."  He  appreciates  the  statement  and  prints 
NOW  large. 

You  went  away  I  think  before  President  Eliot's 
engagement  came  out?  No,  I  think  not.  It  quite 
recalled  the  primitive  Cambridge  to  have  an  item 
circulate  so  universally  and  so  briskly. 

You  tapped  the  spring  of  Sibley's  gratitude  when 
you  commemorated  his  generosity,  at  the  Com 
mencement  dinner.  I  have  always  hoped  he  would 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  141 

get  his  allowance  of  sugar,  and  this  is  the  first  time 
to  my  knowledge.  If  so  it  was  high  time.  He  had 
set  the  hymn1  so  many  years,  with  but  a  bare  in 
stant  of  solo  before  he  was  drowned  in  the  brazen 
roar  —  he  had  listened  so  many  years  to  those 
thanatophorous,  thanatethical  reports  which  they 
used  to  take  foranafter  dinner  diversion  and  never 
had  heard  "Our  popular  praecentor  John  Lang- 
don  Sibley,"  or  "Our  indefatigable  antiquarian 
J.  L.  S.,"  causing  his  very  "7r9a7rtS(e95t)"  which  I 
shall  translate  gizzard,  to  leap  within  him.  What  a 
soft  flood  of  delight  poured  over  him  as  his  ears  al 
most  against  belief  reported  to  him  your  delicate 
but  ample  compliment,  and  the  friendly  mugitus  and 
strep itus  that  followed  gave  public  and  far-reaching 
sanction  to  your  words.  I  think  he  will  never  forget 
it  nor  his  gratitude. 

I  have  given  J.  B.  your  remembrances  and  shall 
do  the  same  by  Choate.2  He  is  commorant  at  Bev 
erly  just  now.  Sears  is  there  with  his  yacht,  and  I 
hope  they  are  having  fine  times. 

Carter  is  in  statu  quo  —  I  don't  see  him  much. 
Susan  reports  having  enjoyed  your  society  several, 
days.  She  is  staying  at  her  father's  just  now. 

We  have  had  a  great  deal  of  dogday  weather,  very 
pronounced — warm,  sticky,  mighty  unpleasant. 

1  John  L.  Sibley,  the  College  Librarian,  for  many  years,  always 
led  the  singing  of  Psalm  78  at  the  Harvard  College  Commencement 
Dinner. 

2  Charles  F.  Choate,  Harvard  A.B.  1849;   President  of  the  Old 
Colony  R.R.  Co.;  a  near  neighbor  of  Bartlett's  on  Brattle  Street. 


142  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  may  come  out  to  Europe  bye  and  bye,  don't 
know.  When  you  find  leisure  to  write  me  again 
please  tell  me  that  Mrs.  Lowell  is  all  right  again, 
which  I  infer  now.  Give  my  particular  kind  regards 
to  her  and  tell  her  she  must  learn  to  talk  Spanish 
like  a  native  —  that  would  be  a  fine  trophy  for  her 
to  bring  home.  I  shall  try  to  find  your  address  as 
Minister  —  settled  minister.  I  wish  you  would 
send  it  to  me. 

It  is  evening,  the  crickets  are  rosining  their  bows 
—  will  begin  directly. 

The  succory  is  in  force  —  what  a  beautiful  blue 
it  is!  I  hope  that  you  are  going  to  find  Spain  very 
pleasant. 

To  PROFESSOR  JAMES  B.  THAYER * 

January  29,  1878. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  THAYER,  — 

I  think  I  have  read  enough  of  the  Letters  of 
Chauncey  Wright,2  to  write  you  a  rational  letter  of 
thanks,  but  though  rational  it  must  be  profoundly 
unintellectual. 

I  told  you  how  I  sat  up  with  C.  W.  (in  the  old 
house)  till  my  illumination  was  exhausted,  and  we 
sat  in  darkness  —  how  he  early  developed  a  pur 
pose  of  descending  into  the  metaphysical  abyss 
and  how  he  disappeared  as  down  a  well,  while  I  sat 

1  James  B.  Thayer  (1831-1902),  Harvard  A.B.  1852,  Professor  of 
Law,  Harvard  Law  School. 

2  Chauncey  Wright,  Harvard  A.B.  1852,  died  in  1875;  an  ingenious 
metaphysician,  whose  Memoir  was  written  by  J.  B.  Thayer. 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  143 

on  the  brink  and  listened  to  his  still  receding  voice. 
Where  he  left  me  then,  qua  metaphysics,  I  find  my 
self  now.  I  know  little  about  them;  I  only  have  a 
feeling  sometimes  when  a  man  goes  into  very  sub 
tle  disquisition,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  lift  himself 
by  his  waistband  —  as  if  he  were  chasing  some  idea 
that  would  not  quite  be  caught  and  became  ob 
scured  by  the  multitude  of  elaborate  and  circuitous 
terms  used  to  entrap  it.  Of  course  my  estimate  of 
C.  W.'s  philosophical  talent  is  formed  on  the  report 
of  competent  observers. 

I  thought  I  saw  in  his  mathematical  talent,  and 
his  juggling  skill,  and  accuracy,  a  brain  calculated 
to  deal  with  any  subtleties,  —  ergo,  with  meta 
physics. 

I  think  that  you  have  handled  the  whole  matter 
of  constructing  the  book  admirably,  and  can  well 
believe  that  it  gave  you  a  great  deal  of  labor. 

With  many  thanks 

Yours, 

JOHN  HOLMES. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  6,  1878. 

It  is  not  any  scruple  on  the  "order  of  our  going," 
i.e.  on  the  sequence  of  letter  and  answer,  that  has 
kept  me  from  writing  to  you  so  long.  I  received 
yours  of  August  5  and  sent  an  answer  which  I  hope 
you  received.  At  about  the  end  of  October  I  had 
an  extraordinary  access  of  lameness,  without  any 


144  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

sufficient  cause  that  I  could  see,  and  began  to  con 
clude  that  the  old  knee  had  finally  broken  down,  — 
but  after  some  two  months  or  more  I  began  to 
mend,  to  my  most  agreeable  surprise,  and  am  now 
in  statu  quo  or  better,  but  I  was  for  a  considerable 
time  in  a  state  of  mild  despair,  getting  only  short 
allowance  of  exercise,  and  my  mind  was  little  better 
than  a  law  blank  —  a  series  of  dry  clauses  with  gaps 
between. 

Now  that  I  am  better  I  shall  be  pleased  enough 
to  write  you  anything  that  will  pleasantly  stir  up 
the  embers  of  your  Cambridge  patriotism.  But  I 
can  no  longer  write  as  the  expert  whist-player,  and 
convivialist,  the  bon  comarado  of  a  parcel  of  young 
sters  —  the  philosopher  who  emerges  for  whist  — 
the  whist-player  who  immures  himself  for  phil 
osophy.  But  I  declare,  James,  now  that  I  've  that 
venerable  title  —  4>tXoso<£o9,  on  paper,  I  blush  to 
think  of  appropriating  it  in  such  familiar  style. 

Well,  of  myself,  it's  precious  little  that  I  have  to 
tell  you.  I  have  staid  in  mostly  during  the  day  and 
made  my  calls  in  the  evening.  I  dined  on  Thanks 
giving  day  with  J.  B.  and  on  Christmas  with 
0.  W.  H.,  Jr.  at  his  lodgings,  where  he  managed  to 
entertain  at  the  same  time  two  Englishmen  —  a 
tutor  and  his  youngster — both  young  men  who 
were  going  to  travel  via  Mexico  and  Panama  to  Cal 
ifornia,  and  come  back  via  Union  Pacific  R.R.  this 
summer.  I  made  myself  as  jolly  as  I  possibly  could 
seeing  that  the  Englishmen  had  a  something  wooden 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  145 

about  them  —  in  their  capacity  of  strangers.  They 
seem  to  me  in  looking  back  like  men  who  had  been 
badly  enchanted  and  were  gradually  recovering 
the  use  of  their  limbs  and  faculties  —  and  I  was 
actually  reminded  —  though  it  seems  very  classical 
for  me  —  of  the  eiSwXoz;  apapgov,  which  was  sent  to 
give  words  of  cheer  to  Penelope.  It  seems  to  me  a 
great  mistake  for  strangers  to  approach  transient 
friendly  intercourse  in  that  way.  It  seems  to  me 
that  under  the  safeguard  of  conventionality,  they 
ought  to  be  free  and  easy  and  cordial  at  first,  cool 
ing  off  as  they  find  occasion.  This  was  called  a 
lunch  but  I  took  the  liberty  to  make  a  comfortable 
dinner  of  it,  and  departed  for  Cambridge  in  a  state 
of  easy  contentment  and  charity  with  all  mankind. 

I  went  to  the  marriage  of  Choate's  daughter1  in 
September  which  I  doubt  not  has  been  fully  de 
scribed  to  Mrs.  Lowell,  if  not  to  you. 

The  garniture  of  flowers  was  on  a  great  scale, 
and  the  effect  I  thought  very  pretty.  It  was  at  the 
Memorial  Chapel  (as  you  know  I  suppose). 

Choate  is  now  President  of  the  Old  Colony  R.R. 
and  we  may  presume  relieved  of  his  hard  work  at 
the  law. 

.  .  .  Early  in  January  I  went  to  Mr.  William 
Read's  golden  wedding,  and  enjoyed  it  a  good  deal 
although  I  had  not  gained  much  on  my  lameness 
then.  It  had  a  neighborhood  effect  about  it  which 
is  rare  I  think  in  Camb.  Old  friends  and  imme- 

1  To  J.  Montgomery  Sears. 


146  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

diate  neighbors  were  asked  —  and  in  the  supper 
room,  aided  by  moderate  draughts  of  the  rosy,  I 
found  something  resembling  old  Gantabrigity. 

Carter  came  on,  I  think  it  was  at  Christmas  time 
—  it  was  thought,  to  stay  the  winter,  but  Susan 
took  him  home  say  some  six  weeks  ago.  He  stayed 
with  Mrs.  Lamb,  who  has  taken  the  house  next 
E.  Longfellow's  —  Lowell  Carter  lives  there.  Car 
ter  was  in  about  the  same  condition  as  before. 

Henry  Ware,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  ousted  from 
the  Public  Library  in  Boston,  to  stay  however  till 
May,  by  which  time  I  hope  his  removal  will  have 
been  reconsidered. 

Mr.  Charles  Vaughan  died  about  a  month  since — 
suddenly,  after  shovelling  snow — a  very  good  man. 

I  have  scarcely  seen  Choate  at  all  since  his 
daughter's  wedding.  I  omitted  to  mention  M.  H.'s 
marriage  to  Curtis,1  son  of  the  Judge,  which  took 
place  in  October  at  the  Orthodox  Church,  Bishop 
Huntington  assisting  Mr.  McKenzie  —  a  very  nice 
wedding,  of  which  Mrs.  L.  has  probably  heard  from 
the  H.'s 

J.  B.  finds  the  Van  Brunts2  exceedingly  agreeable 
neighbors,  and  is  quite  intimate  with  them. 

Richard  Dana,  3d,  was  married  to  Miss  Edith 
Longfellow  a  month  or  so  ago  at  Appleton  Chapel  — 
a  great  company  and  a  heavy  rainstorm. 

1  B.  R.  Curtis,  Jr.,  Harvard  A.B.  1875. 

2  Henry  Van  Brunt,  Harvard  A.B.  1854,  architect,  had  recently 
built  a  residence  next  to  John  Bartlett's. 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  147 

I  have  been  comparatively  little  to  J.  B.'s  since 
you  left.  I  am  very  glad  that  he  has  Van  Brunt  so 
near  him.  He  bought  some  4000  (I  think)  feet  of 
land  of  the  Wellses,  —  the  old  fence  is  taken  down, 
and  he  can  go  by  the  garden  walk  to  the  V.  B.'s 
when  he  pleases. 

I  called  a  few  minutes  last  evening  at  my  neigh 
bor,  Elliott's,  who  is  himself  at  the  West.  She  felt 
quite  sad  over  a  fact  that  I  have  not  yet  mentioned. 
The  Doctor  has  failed.  ...  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
the  Doctor  is  said  to  be  more  cheerful  now  than  he 
has  been  under  the  load  which  he  carried. 

I  don't  know  the  particulars  of  the  case  but  am 
led  to  suppose  that  the  coal-mine  has  been  the 
principal  weight.  I  have  seen  the  Doctor  since  — 
he  is  quiet  and  manly  about  it  as  we  should  expect. 
I  will  write  you  again  if  there  is  anything  you 
would  wish  to  hear. 

Meanwhile,  with  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Lowell, 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  14,  1878. 

I  know  well  that  I  ought  to  have  written  you 
long  since,  —  on  receipt  of  yours,  —  a  local,  patri 
otic  letter,  savory  with  Cambridge  allusions  and 
incident.  Alas  that  I  should  have  been  such  a 
dumb  waiter. 

But  I  am  delocalised  and  demoralised  by  the 
desertion  of  my  friends,  who  have  all  gone  ministers 


148  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

to  Spain,  or  one  thing  or  other,  and  left  me  a  with 
ered  trunk  to  dry  in  my  native  sand.  J.  B.  is  the 
only  one  remaining  who  has  the  Cambridge  smack 
to  him  which  he  has  acquired  by  long  and  faith 
ful  residence.  Henry  Ware  hath  some  pretensions, 
but  too  young,  too  young,  a  mere  boy.  I  am  sure 
you  agree  with  me. 

Then  there's  Ghoate,  who  has  inward  apprecia 
tions,  and  good  Cantabrigian  instincts,  but  is  taci 
turn,  and  as  yet  of  tender  years.  What  you  and 
I  want  is  ripe,  local  men  of  liberal  tendencies  and 
virtuous  habits,  with  just  enough  relish  for  other 
people's  sins  to  give  a  flavor  to  their  own  virtue. 
Above  all  things  we  demand  men  of  entirely  settled 
habits,  even  extending  to  narrative — nor  would 
we  ask  liberality  on  this  score.  A  Charles  XII 
iron-headedness  on  this  point  is  a  part  of  the  pro 
gramme.  Some  little  badge  of  identity  such  as 
wearing  the  hat  far  back  on  the  head,  aut  a/.,  is  not 
objectionable.  I  think  also  that  we  approve  of  one 
who  is  content  to  ambulate  mostly  in  a  circle  of  a 
mile  radius,  the  hearth-stone  of  course  being  the 
centre.  A  group  of  such  men  entirely  at  leisure, 
but  each  with  some  imaginary  task  (perennial)  to 
tone  down  the  brilliancy  of  life's  holiday,  could 
desipere  to  purpose.  But  alas  there  is  some  element 
always  wanting  —  even  at  a  picnic  people  forget 
something,  and  we  cannot  find  the  general  allot 
ment  of  leisure,  needed  for  our  proposed  perpetual 
vacation. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  149 

But  this  is  a  strange  fancy  picture  to  present  to  a 
man  hard  at  work  in  an  honorable  function.  You 
and  I  are  I  suppose,  two  of  the  most  industrious 
men  now  extant  —  you  in  esse  and  I  in  posse  and 
not  all  posse  either.  Now  don't  go  and  say  'possum 
—  your  conscience  won't  let  you  do  it. 

But  I  must  begin  and  talk  Cambridge.  There's 
the  rub.  I  can  tell  you  but  little  except  about  my 
own  superquiet  life,  but  that,  though,  will  bring  in 
what  I  have  to  tell  about  J.  B.  and  the  rest  of  our 
friends. 

Last  summer  I  went  to  Dr.  Ware's  at  Rindge  as 
usual  —  to  a  clam  bake  on  Narragansett  Bay  with 
J.  B.  —  to  Mattapoisett  a  week  or  so,  at  0.  W.  H. 
Jr.'s.  This  winter  I  have  not  been  to  anything, 
to  plays,  etc.,  in  Cambridge  nor  to  the  theatre  in 
Boston.  Some  time  before  January,  they  got  up 
some  lectures  at  the  vestry  to  raise  a  small  fund, 
and  Mr.  Peabody  asked  me  to  give  one  of  them. 
I  told  him  I  could  only  venture  on  Cambridge 
reminiscences.  To  give  such  a  topic  any  sort  of 
chance,  for  an  audience  mostly  of  very  recent  peo 
ple,  I  made  it  out  that  a  boy  who  had  attended  at 
the  old  meetinghouse  till  1821  was  shipwrecked  in 
that  year  on  his  first  venture  to  sea,  being  cast  on 
one  of  the  most  remote  islands  possible  to  conceive 
of  and  that  he  was  but  very  lately  rescued  by  a 
venerable  navigator,  a  contemporary,  who  like  him 
self  had  attended  at  the  old  meetin'us,  and  had 
kept  up  an  intercalary  connection  with  Cambridge 


150  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

to  this  day,  by  residing  here  when  on  shore.  I  made 
the  two  recumbent  under  a  cocoanut  tree  —  and 
Captain  Crojick,  finding  that  his  friend  (who  of 
course  in  such  solitude  had  remained  pretty  much 
a  boy  of  fourteen)  expected  to  find  the  Old  Cam 
bridge  and  people  of  1821,  put  him  through  a  course 
of  questioning  as  to  his  recollections,  which  devel 
oped  the  matter  I  was  upon  satisfactorily,  and  with 
some  little  episodical  ornaments  which  helped  along. 
The  jetsam  quondam  Cambridge  boy  also  gave  a 
brief  Robinson  Crusoe  narrative  of  his  own.  This 
went  off  quite  pleasantly.  John  Hopkinson  read  it 
for  me,  I  not  venturing  the  experiment. 

So  far  so  good,  but  early  in  the  spring,  Satan, 
waiting  outside  the  Old  South,  intercepted  some  of 
the  Committee  and  suggested  to  them  to  ask  me  to 
deliver  an  0.  South  lecture.  Hence  came  to  me  dis 
comfiture  and  woe.  I  thought  to  talk  a  little  about 
the  Puritans,  as  a  subject  I  had  some  little  famil 
iarity  with.  After  a  skimble-skamble  exordium  not 
specially  apropos  to  anything  which  Howells 
thought  good  enough,  I  tried  the  didactic  —  to 
foreshorten  history  down  to  a  neat  forty-five- 
minute  perspective;  but  I  found  myself  so  wofully 
dull  that,  after  destroying  material  enough  for  a 
stunning  (in  the  homicidal  sense)  history  of  it, 
England,  I  found  myself  on  the  eve  of  the  event 
ful  day  with  a  beggarly  fragment  —  which  I  got 
Underwood  to  read.  And  so  my  farthing  candle 
was  extinguished.  What  difference  between  dis- 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  151 

and  ex-tinguished.  I  could  n't  get  off,  because  I 
had  been  announced. 

Since  that  event  my  views  with  regard  to  the 
preservation  of  the  Old  South  have  undergone  a 
material  change. 

And  all  those  who  have  lectured  successfully  for 
0.  S.  seem  to  me  now  painfully  compromised  by 
the  inherent  absurdity  of  the  enterprise. 

J.  B.  ambulates  pleasantly  along  the  asphalt 
sidewalk  of  life,  going  down  to  the  Cape  now  and 
then,  and  returning  to  tell  how  narrowly  he  has 
escaped  acute  rheumatism  from  the  truculent 
winds  in  that  quarter. 

I  sometimes  —  but  very  rarely  —  go  up  and 
take  a  VITT  with  him,  you  know  what  a  vm  is?  it  is 
water,  a  little  demoralized  or,  as  some  heretics  have 
it,  it  is  usquebaugh  vitiated  by  water. 

I  go  at  long  intervals  to  see  Ghoate,  who  is  now 
President  of  the  Old  Colony  R.R.  I  wonder  I  did  n't 
write  it  Old  South  R.R. 

Carter  came  on  on  the  1st  June  to  live  at  Mrs. 
Lamb's  (next  E.  Longfellow's).  He  seems  much  as 
he  was  before. 

I  walked  this  morning  down  Hilliard  Street  and 
to  the  causeway  where  you  get  the  Brighton- 
Brookline  view.  It  was  mighty  pretty.  I  should 
have  liked  to  have  you  for  a  co-looker  —  an  old 
friend  helps  you  to  sweep  away  the  sense  of  change 
that  pervades  everything. 

I  wonder  whether  Mrs.  Lowell  examines  the 


152  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

world  from  her  window  as  she  did  in  Paris.  It  was 
a  very  sensible  idea  to  systematize  her  surveys 
and  report  home.  I  warrant  she  got  many  a  nice 
picture. 

You  must  give  my  kindest  regards  to  her  and 
tell  her  that  I  don't  know  how  better  to  show  my 
good  will  than  by  solemnly  enjoining  her  to  look 
out  sharp  against  rheumatism,  which  I  trust  no 
longer  affects  her.  And  James,  when  you  get  to  be 
eighty-four,  I  hope  you  will  decline  to  stand  on 
public  occasions  with  your  hat  off  as  Mr.  Bryant 
did.1 .  .  . 

In  the  Journal  this  morning  I  found  a  letter  from 
"Holyoke,"  no,  from  South  Hadley,  beginning 
thus:  — 

"  Our  honored  poet  Lowell  must  have  caught  the 
inspiration  of  his  'Vision,'  found  in  all  young 
ladies'  albums,  from  some  such  scene,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  also  enclose  a  piece  from  the  Journal  touching 
"Minister  Lowell."  How  many  good  old  ladies  of 
your  father's  parish  seeing  that  heading  exclaimed, 
"There!  he's  settled!  I  always  said  he'd  be  a  min 
ister  bye  and  bye." 

I  saw  Charles  Norton,  it  may  be  a  month  since, 
who  represented  his  mother's  condition  pleasantly 
to  me  —  although  her  mind  is  impaired. 

The  proprietress  of  No.  5  Appian  Way  wishes  to 
be  remembered  to  you. 

I  send  you  the  hearty  greetings  and  well-wishing 

1  William  Cullen  Bryant,  American  poet,  had  just  died. 


TO   EDWARD   J.    HOLMES  153 

of  the  Club.  I  shall  have  this  ratified  by  the  indi 
viduals  solemnly,  and  promise  to  warn  you  if  there 
is  the  least  failure  in  readiness  or  heartiness,  which 
makes  it  as  good  as  under  seal.  I  send  to  Mrs. 
Lowell  also  from  the  Club,  such  greeting  as  befits 
an  Honorary  member  to  receive. 

I  really  thought  I  had  got  to  the  last  page,  and 
I  am  glad  there  is  more  room.  And  now  have  I 
omitted  anything.  .  .  . 

And  so  with  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Lowell, 
I  am  affectionately 

Your  old  friend,  J.  H. 

To  EDWARD  J.  HOLMES* 

CAMBRIDGE,  October  15,  1878. 
MY  DEAR  EDWARD, — 

When  you  went  off  I  had  heard  from  your  father 
that  you  desired  to  have  no  attendance  of  friends. 

I  got  the  same  idea  from  J.  R.  L.  about  himself 
when  he  spoke  of  the  bobbery  they  were  going  to 
make,  he  being  forewarned  thereof  officially.  Let 
this  account  for  the  absence  of  one  white  head 
from  the  ocean  strand  on  that  day. 

I  have  sympathized  and  rejoiced  when  I  found 
that  you  had  evaded  the  grasp  of  the  wheezing 
fiend  and  were  having  the  full  enjoyment  of  the 
breath  of  life.  Tell  your  wife  that  regardless  of  the 
grades  of  affinity  I  involve  her  and  the  little  Ned 
in  the  same  complication  of  good  wishes  that  I 

1  Holmes's  nephew,  who  had  gone  abroad  for  his  health. 


154  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

have  woven  for  you;  I  hope  that  each  and  every 
of  them  may  take  effect  on  your  health  and  pros 
perity  —  of  all  of  you. 

If  I  should  tell  you  the  things  I  have  not  done 
since  you  left  your  native  shore  —  the  work  I  have 
not  effected,  it  would  make  a  vast  and  instructive 
volume  of  potentialities  and  impossibilities. 

I  have  enclosed  a  little  letter  to  Ned  jr.,  pretty 
creature  that  he  is,  which  I  hope  will  impart  a 
streak  of  social  and  kindly  feeling  to  his  little  bosom 
in  behalf  of  young  Puffer,  who  seems  a  youth  of 
ingenuous  mind  with  small  means  of  literary  pro 
pulsion  which  he  has  improved  as  well  as  could  be 
expected.  His  sporadic  residences  with  collaterals 
may  enlarge  his  knowledge  of  human  nature  but  I 
think  are  adverse  to  his  progress  as  a  scholar. 

"Youth  is  the  seed-time  of  life,"  is  what  the  old 
clock  in  Andover  Academy  used  to  say  to  the  boys 
—  its  motto.  I  hope  you  have  been  sowing  yours 
thick  with  good  healthy  pleasures,  and  if  you  will 
write  me  ever  so  briefly  to  that  effect  I  will  take 
it  as  a  receipt  in  full  for  my  two  calligraphies  now 
forwarded. 

Perhaps  I  need  not  tell  you  that  a  large  gymna 
sium  (brick)  is  going  up  and  just  clears  the  front 
view  from  our  old  house,  which  has  consequently 
(i.e.  the  proximity  —  not  the  salve  to  the  view)  been 
evacuated  in  disgust  by  William  Everett,  and  Pro 
fessor  Thayer  is  to  occupy  it.  Also  that  the  house 
quondam  Professor  Pierce's  has  ambulated  pleas- 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  155 

antly  across  the  fields,  and  its  space  is  to  be  occu 
pied  by  the  new  Sever  Building. 

Also  that  the  Jacobs  and  Rebeccas  have  met  at 
the  well  as  of  old,  and  the  patriarchs  and  matri 
archs  have  looked  on  and  approved,  and  that  pleas 
ant  weddings  have  resulted,  some  of  which  I  have 
attended  as  a  sentimental  amateur. 

And  so  wishing  you  all  health  and  happiness, 
I  sign  myself 

Your  affectionate  uncle 

JOHN  HOLMES. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  6,  1879. 

I  sit  me  down  this  morning  to  write  you  a  letter. 
Yes,  actually  a  letter;  and  considering  the  time  I 
have  been  about  it  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  were 
a  little  surprised  on  your  part  to  see  my  x^poypa^a 
(chirography). 

I  can't  tell  you  myself  how  I  can  have  kept  pen 
off  paper  so  long,  much  less  describe  to  you  the 
curious  sort  of  moral  impossibility  for  me  to  write. 
And  this  too  in  face  of  your  kind  invitation  to  visit 
you.  Perhaps  though  this  was  the  first  cause  of  my 
disability  —  for  I  found  it  hard  to  tell  you  how 
hard  it  would  be  for  me  to  leave  home  for  the  win 
ter  —  to  become  a  Spaniard  and  have  to  go  to  the 
Auto  da  fe  or  be  twisted  into  a  letter  S  by  the 
Inquisition.  When  I  heard  of  your  ill  health  (from 
which  I  am  heartily  rejoiced  that  you  have  recov- 


156  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

ered)  I  knew  what  the  trouble  was.  I  have  n't  read 
Fox's  "Martyrs"  for  nothing.  I  knew  you  had 
been  in  their  hands,  but  mum 's  the  word.  I  have  n't 
of  course  suggested  it  to  your  friends.  I  suppose 
you  have  come  to  an  understanding  with  them  now 
and  are  secure  from  TO/>TU/>€  (torture).  (I  write  it 
in  Greek  for  our  private  use.)  A  word  to  the  wise  — 
no  more  on  that  subject. 

Methinks,  James,  that  if  I  had  enjoyed  free  am- 
bulation,  I  could  not  have  helped  telling  you  when 
I  went  up  by  your  place  and  maybe  down  by  the 
New  Road,  by  Simon's  Hill  with  the  Old  Bath 
on  my  right  suggestive  of  long  past  catastrophes. 
Yea,  and  if  I  had  turned  by  Squire  Bigelow's,  and 
had  passed  the  "Canal"  on  which  Edward  Bridge 
of  that  day  played  the  bold  4>oenician,  and  upset  his 
tub,  while  his  mother,  in  the  background,  adjured 
and  threatened  by  turns;  and  if,  turning,  I  had  then 
passed  the  dwelling  of  Wm.  Warland  on  the  left, 
and  of  Dames  Bridge  and  Wright  and  of  Hersey 
on  my  right,  and  have  gone  to  Brighton  Bridge  or 
College  Wharf  with  a  vision  purged  of  all  modern 
circumstance — if  I  had  done  this,  methinks,;!  must 
have  sent  report  of  my  visions  to  you.  I  should 
have  thrust  them  well  back  into  a  time  when  you 
could  not  criticise,  could  only  admire,  a  time  when 
thou  wast  a  puling  babe. 

But  alas,  I  have  made  no  such  ambulations.  I 
have  learned  to  move  in  very  small  circles  —  to 
pace  round  the  Common,  or  partially  —  and  there, 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  157 

must  I  confess  it  to  you?  I  have  become  in  some 
slight  degree  wonted  —  shall  I  say  it?  —  to  mod 
ern  change. 

Monday,  March  10. 

As  I  proceed  I  declare  to  you,  James,  that  I  feel 
something  vindicated  in  my  long  silence  —  all  is 
preface  to  here,  and  what  have  I  to  tell  you?  Let 
us  see.  About  myself,  that  autumn  and  winter  I 
have  walked  very  regularly  in  the  common  after 
breakfast,  that  my  neighbor  Elliott,  when  at  home, 
has  walked  often  with  me,  and  that  latterly  James 
Howe  has  also  turned  out,  making  a  formidable 
body  of  3,000  men  —  that  numeration  is  correct, 
is  n't  it?  Some  six  weeks  or  more  since,  Elliott  went 
via  Cincinnati  to  Nebraska  where  he  has  under 
taken  to  raise  cattle,  or  leastwise  to  fatten  them  — 
and  one  morning  James  Howe  told  me  he  had  an 
invitation  from  Baltimore  to  go  in  a  sailing  ship  to 
Rio,  and  he  went  for  N.  York  the  same  afternoon. 
So  that  we  are  now  but  1.000  (I  have  some  doubts 
about  the  action  of  my  decimal  point). 

This  walking  and  my  day  at  home  employed  in 
persuading  myself  that  I  am  an  industrious  citizen, 
and  my  little  round  of  evening  calls  (the  circuit  now 
contracted)  make  up  my  record,  with  occasional 
runs  to  Boston  to  diversify.  ...  To  come  down  to 
present  time,  I  dined  at  J.  B.'s  one  Saturday  two  or 
three  weeks  since  with  Thayer,  Lane,  Van  Brunt 
and  C.  W.  S.,  who  is  careful  and  comparatively 


158  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

vigorous  this  winter.  He  dined  with  me  Saturday, 
day  before  yesterday,  and  J.  B.,  who  could  n't 
come  to  dinner,  came  in  afterward.  I  went  a  week 
last  Friday  to  George  Putnam's  to  a  high  tea  —  it 
was  a  very  high  tea.  We  were  Wentworth  Higgin- 
son1  and  new  wife,  J.  B.  and  wife,  Mrs.  Simmons 
(sister-in-law  of  Thayer)  and  daughter,  Mrs.  Child, 
and  Anne  Buttrick.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  be 
among  so  familiar  a  set,  though  in  the  case  of  Went 
worth  and  wife,  a  savor  of  novelty.  He,  Wentworth, 
has  taken  up  his  abode  in  Cambridge  in  house 
quondam  Rev.  \Vm.  Ware's.  We  all  had,  I  can  say 
confidently,  a  very  pleasant  time,  indeed ! 

I  have  been  twice  to  the  Arsenal  Theatre,  now 
quite  an  established  institution.  The  second  time 
was  last  Thursday  to  hear  (and  see)  Wm.  Everett's 
Operetta,  which  went  off  very  well  at  this  fourth 
representation;  was  very  well  attended.  Mr.  Long 
fellow  there,  among  the  rest. 

Such  a  letter  as  this  smacks  of  old  age,  does  n't 
it?  not  in  its  very  simple  ideas  I  trust,  but  in  its 
very  limited  range  —  its  non  record  of  gay  visions, 
or  athletic  (quasi  athletic)  experiences.  I  don't  tell 
you  "how  I  went  with  Bowler  and  Bangs  and 
Buster  dowrn  to  Point  Shirley,  and  how  we  agreed 
to  walk  back  and  met  Old  Blowhard  on  the  way  — 
made  us  go  home  with  him  —  never  started  from 
his  house  till  3,  —  home  by  5J,  did  n't  go  to  bed  at 

1  In  the  autumn  of  1878,  Colonel  T.  W.  Higginson  returned  to 
Cambridge  to  live. 


TO   J.    R.    LOWELL  159 

all  —  did  n't  want  to."  More  likely  to  say,  "called 
in  at  Slopsters' —  they  at  tea  —  took  one  cup 
(rather  strong  for  me),  tried  half  a  glass  of  his 
currant  wine  being  hard  pressed;  pleasant  talk, 
and  by  mistake  of  time  not  home  till  10.10,  in  bed 
at  10.15,  or  all  together.  Mem.  To  take  nothing 
whatever  after  my  dinner!"  It  was  you  who  used 
to  tell  us  of  the  Club  in  Boston,  where  the  members 
used  to  call  for  tea  and  barley  water  and  the  like. 
Waldo  Higginson  was  telling  me  a  little  while  ago 
about  two  old  gentlemen  who  went  to  Stockbridge 
—  both  I  think  born  there  or  familiar  there  when 
very  young.  They  had  a  man  to  drive  them  about 
in  a  wagon  —  the  two  seniors  on  the  back  seat. 
They  were  in  a  high  state  of  contentment,  each 
averring  that  he  did  n't  feel  a  day  older  than  during 
his  young  perambulations,  —  when  the  driver  (very 
possibly  irritated  by  this  senile  self-satisfaction) 
gave  the  horse  a  cut,  and  both  the  "old  gents"  went 
out  over  the  tail  of  the  wagon.  They  survived — but 
never  to  [be]  juvenile  again — poor  fellows, — my 
sympathies  are  with  them. 

I  went  to  visit  William  Upham l  about  a  week 
since,  who  has  bought  a  farm  about  5  miles  from 
Salem.  He  has  a  meadow,  flowed  and  of  course 
frozen.  I  saw  a  pair  of  skates,  and  told  William  that 
I  should  like  just  to  try  the  experiment  of  being  on 
skates  again  after  thirty  years  or  so.  I  was  very 
modest  about  it,  —  made  no  professions  of  ability, 

1  His  nephew,  son  of  Charles  W.  Upham. 


160  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

but  in  my  mind  proposed  to  vindicate  the  old  school 
by  a  pretty  vigorous  sortie.  We  went  to  the  pond, 
I  sat  on  a  rail  ant  ai  while  William  bored  my  heels 
to  accommodate  the  modern  screw.  All  was  done 
-  the  skates  were  on,  and  I  rose,  closely  attended 
by  William  (who  may  have  formed  his  own  esti 
mate  of  my  skating  talent).  If  you'll  believe  it, 
my  feet  showed  an  invincible  desire  to  seek  the 
zenith.  I  could  hardly  believe  it  myself.  —  Finally, 
with  William's  hold  of  my  arm  and  assuming  a 
very  curved  posture,  I  skated  about  3  rods,  or  less, 
leaving  the  oblique  cuts  as  witnesses  of  the  deed. 
You  ought  to  have  been  there  —  you  would  have 
enjoyed  it  to  the  top  of  your  bent,  I  could  n't  help 
being  vastly  amused  though  foiled  on  the  athletic 
point,  and  rather  disappointed. 

Tuesday,  March  11. 

We  are  having  the  weather  of  early  April  —  mud 
plenty  but  not  deep  —  snow  almost  gone.  So  far 
methinks  it  has  been  the  finest  autumn  and  winter 
that  I  remember.  A  great  peculiarity  has  been,  if  I 
have  noted  rightly,  the  very  great  amount  of  calm 
weather  through  both  seasons,  that  I  seem  to  have 
no  memory  of  the  aggressive  winds  that  rob  caloric 
and  make  forcible  impression  upon  body  and  mind. 
At  the  present  time,  this  is  at  least  the  fourth  day 
without  noticeable  wind.  .  .  . 

You  will  have  heard  of  the  deaths  of  Mrs. 
Dr.  Walcott,  Mrs.  Palmer,  Mr.  Batcheldcr  at]  94, 


TO   J.    R.    LOWELL  101 

Capt.  Hastings,  87,  and  lastly  of  Carter,  —  who 
died  Saturday  February  15  early  in  the  morning. 
Doubtless  Mrs.  Carter  informed  you  of  it,  but  I 
will  briefly  mention  the  circumstances,  and  tell  you 
about  him,  latterly.  1  le  has  stayed  at  Mrs.  Lamb's, 
corner  Willard  Street,  next  Ernest  Longfellow's, 
this  winter.  I  have  called  on  him  now  and  then  and 
have  found  him  very  quiet  —  less  interested  about 
things  in  general  than  formerly — asking  little  about 
out-of-door  matters  in  Cambridge.  lie  for  three  or 
four  months,  perhaps  more,  had  done  little  more 
in  the  way  of  excursion  than  take  the  car  to  Boston 
in  the  afternoon  and  back  without  leaving  it.  I 
called  on  him  one  forenoon  in  November  and  found 
him  in  bed  —  he  had  had  a  bad  night.  The  doctor 
had  been  called,  but  as  he  had  taken  some  black 
eollVe  the  night  or  day  before,  one  readily  imputed 
his  heart  disturbance  to  that.  I  have  heard  since 
that  he  once  had  a  bad  time  at  Dieppe.  After  this 
turn  thai  1  have  mentioned,  I  heard  no  more  of  any 
special  trouble  till  his  death.  Mrs.  Lamb  says  that 
he  had  seemed  better,  and  on  the  evening  before 
his  death,  was  very  cheerful.  J.  H.  had  given  him 
some  work  —  to  make  selections  from  Webster's 
writings — which  pleased  him  greatly.  1  think  how 
ever  she  mentions  his  feeling  some  little  uneasiness 
when  he  went  to  bed.  He  rang  a  bell  he  had  by 
him  for  Mrs.  Lamb  somewhere  about  12.  She  found 
him  much  distressed  and  did  what  she  could  - 
put  on  a  mustard  poultice  and  finally  'gave  him 


162  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

his  usual  dose  of  ten  drops  of  laudanum  and  tucked 
the  bedclothes  about  him  and  went  out  to  warm 
herself  —  came  in  again  and  all  seemed  right  — 
waited  to  catch  the  milkman  to  go  for  the  doctor  — 
went  in  again  perhaps  about  3,  and  found  him  dead 
—  apparently  without  any  movement  at  all  —  the 
bedclothes  remaining  as  she  had  arranged  them  and 
the  position  such  as  she  had  left  him  in  —  the 
hands  not  stirred  apparently. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  Wednesday  19th  in 
the  forenoon.  Doctor  Gray  of  the  Episcopal  Sem 
inary  read  the  service  (in  Mrs.  Lamb's  house).  The 
Doctor,  H.  Ware  and  Cranch,  Geo.  Nichols,  Owen 
and  two  or  three  other  men.  Mary  Elliot,  Mary 
Howe,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  more  besides  those 
of  the  Nichols  family  —  yes,  one  of  the  Miss  Par 
sons.  Lowell  Carter  and  Charles  were  there  —  the 
latter  from  Iowa  where  he  is  paymaster  on  some 
railroad.  The  Doctor,  Cranch  and  I  went  up  to 
the  grave.  H.  Ware  was  too  ill  with  a  cold.  I 
thought  you  might  like  to  have  me  be  thus  partic 
ular  in  telling  you.  It  seems  that  Carter  had 
arranged  all  his  papers  and  matters  perfectly.  A 
sketch  of  his  life  appeared  in  the  "Literary  World" 
on  the  day  that  he  died. 

They  found  him  very  amiable  at  Mrs.  Lamb's, 
and  seemed  to  have  become  very  fond  of  him.  I 
think  in  his  social  aspect  he  never  appeared  to 
better  advantage  than  in  these  last  few  months,  as 
a  venerable  gentle  old  man. 


TO   J.    R.   LOWELL  163 

You  see  that  there  has  been  an  unusual  depletion 
in  our  neighborhood.  The  deaths  were  in  the  order 
in  which  I  have  put  them  except  that  Garter's  came 
between  Mr.  Batchelder's  and  Gapt.  Hastings'. 

Before  any  of  them  —  about  the  middle  of  Janu 
ary —  Michael  Norton  departed.  You  know  of 
him  —  yes,  surely  —  you  know  he  had  been  very 
industrious  and  thrifty  and  had  got  an  independ 
ence  by  forty,  and  was  inclined  to  give  an  additional 
chance  to  thieves  and  moths,  by  still  accumulating. 
It  seems  that  in  the  highflown  times  now  so  well 
over,  he  took  second  mortgages,  and  the  great 
depreciation  swallowed  his  investments,  whereon 
he  pined,  dwindled  to  a  childish  state  and  died.  Let 
us  not  be  hard  on  him  even  though  he  might  be 
somewhat  hard.  He  had  no  children  and  his 
treasures  took  the  place  of  them.  He  had  housed 
and  fed  them  and  seen  them  grow  under  his  care, 
and  whatever  outside  —  they  had  always  a  smile 
for  him.  Bonds  and  mortgages  seemed  to  rise  like 
olive  branches  around  his  table  and  call  him  blessed. 
They  seemed  to  say,  "Let  us  repay  thee  for  thy 
care,"  and  little  innocent  gold  dollars  in  a  stocking 
or  silver  change  in  a  teapot,  —  perhaps  you  and  I 
should  yearn  over  such  a  hoard  if  we  had  ever  been 
led  to  make  one. 

If  you  should  write  me  some  of  these  days,  you 
could  tell  me  if  there  was  anything  special  that  you 
wished  to  hear  about  and  I  would  write  you. 

I  don't  know  that  such  a  letter  as  this  can  help 


164  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

you  to  make  pictures  of  Old  Cambridge  much  —  I 
don't  have  many  visions  of  0.  C.  myself. 

You  must  give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  Mrs. 
Lowell  who  no  doubt  speaks  Spanish  freely  by  this 
time. 

I  have  heard  of  your  election  into  the  Academy,1 
and  with  such  a  pleasant  circumstance  and  a  now, 
pretty  long  residence  I  can't  but  think  you  must  be 
quite  happy. 

If  you  should  write  me  to  that  effect,  I  would 
make  some  little  pilgrimages  about  Cambridge  and 
report  when  the  weather  improves  into  something 
like  spring. 

Meanwhile  I  am  ever, 

Yours  affectionately. 

I  went  last  evening  with  J.  B.  to  call  on  Went- 
worth  Higginson,  newly  married  and  living  in 
Rev.  Wm.  Ware's  quondam  house;  played  whist  till 
11,  a  most  remarkable  thing.  J.  B.  sends  his  very 
tiptop  regards  and  I  send  Choate's  and  if  he  does  n't 
ratify  my  message  I  will  let  you  know. 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  April  30,  1879. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES,  — 

I  came  to  your  office  a  week  yesterday  to  get  you, 
when  lo!  the  young  men  said:  "He  lieth  by  the 
Brook  Kishan  under  the  shadow  of  Mount  Gilboa. 

1  The  Royal  Spanish  Academy  at  Madrid. 


TO    C.   W.    STOREY  165 

The  Gouttims  and  the  Rumtums  lay  in  wait  for 
him,  and  have  pierced  his  foot  with  a  dart,  that  he 
lieth  in  his  tent  and  crieth  unto  them  that  pass, 
'Ho!  what  tidings  be  there  by  land  or  by  sea  that 
I  may  refresh  my  soul  therewith?  For  lo!  I  am 
weary.  Give  me  tobboc  (77117771) *  that  I  may  smoke.' 
Then  come  his  wife  and  his  little  ones,  and  do  tend 
on  him  and  cherish  him  that  he  crieth  out  aloud, 
and  singeth  a  new  song. 

"  The  Gouttim  and  the  Rumtum  did  waylay  me 
They  shot  me  in  the  foot 
The  young  men  brought  me  home 
My  bed  was  as  brambles 
I  rested  not  for  pain 
And  I  said  I  am  sore  afflicted 
I  walk  not,  but  lie  as  a  babe 
The  snail  mocketh  at  me  and  saith 
Go  to  1  wilt  thou  run  a  race  with  me? 

As  a  fee,  feemounted;  with  aspect  double 
Or  testament  that  goes  forth  ambulatory 
That  man  hears  of,  but  sees  walking  never 
So  am  I  in  my  tent,  hid  in  red  flannel 
i  Strange  and  not  visible,  but  I  walk  not  like  them 
While  I  cry  thus,  cometh  my  spouse  Lizbet 
Ever  kind  and  consoling  with  kind  sister  Mary 
Cometh  Moful,  and  Maran  and  little  Sosec 
They  so  beset  me  with  kindly  attention 
As  crowded  my  griefs  out,  and  I  sat  up  and  sang 
Oh  for  a  blow  at  the  Gouttim  and  Rumtum! 
Where  be  my  weapons  —  my  senna,  my  manna 
Soul-searching  Tarrant  —  flashing  Chloral 
Hoist  my  red  flannel  banner  —  Have  at  them 
Soon  they  shall  fly  shrieking  —  soon  lie  flaccid 
Cloven,  shattered,  busted,  and  I  rising  gaily 
Will  run  victorious 

1  Chaldee. 


166  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Chase  and  catch  the  horse-cars 

Also  the  steam,  if  I  care  to 

Will  dance  round  dances  —  also  square  ones 

Enter  for  foot  races  —  carry  off  prizes. 

So  I  sang  —  at  this  juncture  they  passed  me  my  chloral 

And  I  slept,  or  we'd  had  a  good  family  choral.'* 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  September  27,  1879. 

I  write  to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  for  the  trouble 
you  are  in  and  that  I  hope  it  will  soon  come  to  a 
favorable  end. 

I  met  President  Eliot  a  week  ago  in  the  car  and 
he  was  wishing  you  back. 

Choate,  J.  B.,  and  the  residue  of  our  world  here, 
are  going  on  as  usual.  C.  has  been  at  Marblehead 
all  summer.  J.  B.  has  made  excursions  from  Cam 
bridge  headquarters. 

He  gave  three  Plymouth  girls  —  nay  four  —  a 
week's  trip  to  White  Mountains,  —  J.  patron,  and 
H.  matron,  to  the  party.  He  is  furiously  at  work  on 
a  new-plan  index  to  Shakespeare.1 

The  new  house  for  the  Dean  of  the  Episcopal 
School  is  finished  —  pretty  nearly  —  it  is  just  east 
of  the  chapel. 

I  send  this  little  note  to  express  sympathy  and  it 

is  by  no  means  confined  to  me.    If  I  don't  hear 

particularly  from  or  about  you,  I  shall  run  the  risk 

of  writing  a  prolix  and  ''perhaps  inapposite  letter. 

Meanwhile  your  affectionate  friend. 

1  The  Shakespeare  Phrase  Book. 


TO  J.   R.   LOWELL  167 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  12,  1879. 

I  take  pleasure  in  thinking  that  your  situation  is 
much  improved  by  this  time ;  —  in  other  words  that 
Mrs.  Lowell  is  much  better.  I  have  not  heard  of 
any  want  of  health  on  your  part  lately  and  trust 
there  has  been  none.  There  has  been  all  the  time  a 
report  of  Mrs.  Lowell's  health  circulating  here  and 
generally  I  think  a  correct  one. 

Mabel1  was  kind  enough  to  write  me  a  note  tell 
ing  me  of  her  decided  improvement. 

So  that  now  I  hope  I  see  the  dawn  of  a  better 
time  for  you  both,  when  past  misery  shall  only 
sharpen  your  appreciation  of  present  happiness. 

Let  me  try  now  to  infuse  into  a  short  letter  some 
thing  of  the  home  flavor  that  so  refreshes  the 
sojourner  in  a  strange  land  (Here  I  want  a  word. 
Gale,  zephyr,  blast,  whiff.  Suppose  we  weld  the 
Latin  root  and  Teutsch  form  together  and  say 
"flast,"  equivalent  in  force  to  " whiff"  but  having 
a  gentle  self -impelling  power  which  whiff  has  not.) 

I  should  like  then  to  send  you  a  flast  from  one 
of  our  old-fashioned  beds  of  herbs  —  sage,  thyme, 
winter  and  summer  savory  and  the  like,  or  a  mild 
exhalation  from  oozy  Charles,  or  a  flastula  of  pine 
cone  or  a  flastulilula  from  Craigie's  placid  pool. 
But  perhaps  I  should  unduly  agitate  the  home 
associations.  Now  then  let  us  turn  to  the  weather. 

1  Lowell's  daughter,  Mrs.  Edward  Burnett. 


168  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

...  I  never  have  been  one,  nor  you,  who  depre 
ciated  and  abused  the  weather  as  a  topic.  It  is 
beautiful,  salutary,  large,  as  a  subject;  —  adapt 
able  to  every  degree  of  intellect,  and  extending 
itself  to  embrace  the  interests  of  the  larger  family 
circle,  of  town,  neighborhood,  state  and  country. 
It  is  therefore  really  a  cosmopolitan  theme.  It  only 
becomes  petty  when  reduced  to  its  lowest  topical 
grade,  —  to  measuring  inches  of  local  wind  and  the 
like.  Even  then  it  is  a  mild  and  healthy  irritant 
to  the  social  system.  It  seems  to  me  that  people 
hardly  appreciate  the  value  of  the  mere  mental 
irritant,  irrespective  of  its  intellectual  value.  If  our 
friend  Doctor  Johnson  could  have  enacted  Robin 
son  Crusoe  for  a  year  or  so  (and  should  n't  we  have 
liked  to  hear  him  talk  to  his  parrot  and  his  goats?) 
how  gladly  would  he  have  discussed  with  his  fellow 
flotsam  a  little  loggerheaded  cabin  boy,  suppose 
just  above  zero  mentally,  every  phase  of  wind  and 
weather,  now  caressing  him  as  his  sole  social  frag 
ment  and  now  piling  him  with  thundering  denunci 
ations  for  his  stupidity.  Probably,  in  the  absence 
of  all  means  of  comparison  he  would  attribute 
quite  a  respectable  intellect  to  his  companion.  "Sir," 
he  would  say  when  he  had  arrived  back  at  Bolt 
Court,  "  Sir,  Billy  was  not  a  fool.  He  could  not,  it  is 
true,  disintegrate  and  analyze  heterogeneous  masses 
of  fact,  he  could  not  generalize  nor  was  he  eminent 
for  accuracy  in  any  department  of  truth;  but  Sir, 
he  could  reciprocate  specific  ideas  which  my  ani- 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  169 

mals  could  not  do,  and  Sir,  I  now  look  back  with 
pleasure  to  many  conversations  that  I  have  held 
with  him  on  the  weather  and  the  more  obvious 
celestial  phcenomena  and,  Sir,  in  one  department 
at  least  Billy  displayed  ingenuity.  I  could  never 
find  a  place  for  my  goatsmilk  cheeses  that  was 
secure  from  his  investigations.  He  was  a  boy  of 
unbounded  gulosity  and,  Sir,  it  was  that  that  oc 
casioned  his  death  three  days  before  my  happy 
deliverance."  Then  would  follow  an  explosion  of 
grief. 

But  where  in  the  meantime  is  our  weather  re 
port? 

One  day  we  had  in  June  that  reminded  me  of  you 
stretched  on  those  cruel  gridirons,  and  taking  your 
little  grill  for  your  soul's  good.  But  mum's  the 
word  about  that.  I  never  have  said  a  word  about 
the  ivKvisTiov  to  anybody.  I  always  call  it  gout  or 
rheumatism.  But  on  the  whole  the  summer  was 
rather  cool.  September  likewise.  But  then  out 
stepped  gallant  old  Uncle  October  with  one  fist  full 
of  sunshine  and  the  other  on  the  nozzle  of  the 
^Eolian  windbag.  He  was  ashamed  of  the  churlish 
behavior  of  his  elder  brother  (old  Sep),  and  there 
he  stood  with  a  pleasant  smile  dropping  one  golden 
day  after  another  down  to  earth.  We  had  a  won 
derful  succession  of  very  fine,  clear,  warm  days.  I 
don't  remember  a  single  hazy  Indian  summer  day 
through  this  season.  Then  in  November  again  we 
have  had  a  premature  flurry  or  two  of  snow  which 


170  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

thawed  off  here  but  I  think  in  the  country  must 
have  remained,  it  was  so  deep.  My  friend  Doctor 
Ware  went  to  his  house  at  West  Rindge  the  other 
day  and  waded  to  his  knees  in  snow. 

I  have  as  usual  been  to  West  Rindge  this  summer 
and  to  Mattapoisett,  but  I  have  also  taken  what 
with  my  stationary  habit  I  may  consider  an  im 
mense  voyage,  i.e.  from  Portland'to  Mt.  D.  I  have 
been  to  Mt.  Desert!  and  bounced  about  in  buck- 
boards  with  young  people  at  a  great  rate.  I  found 
Cambridge  folk  too  at  the  house  where  I  stayed, 
the  Fosters  (at  whose  suggestion  I  made  the  excur 
sion),  Mrs.  Swan  and  daughters,  Mrs.  Allyn  and 
Abbot  Vaughan,  etc.,  etc.  I  never  fell  in  with  many 
Cambridge  people  before  in  my  travels. 

Some  one  told  me  that  the  Hayeses  had  counted 
a  great  number  of  herons. 

I  think  I  must  intercalate  a  leaf.  I  have  made 
out  to  tell  you  so  very  little  in  so  large  a  space.  All 
goes  on  here  with  the  usual  quietness.  J.  B.  has  got 
his  steam  up  and  is  working  zealously  on  his  new 
book,  a  Shakespeare  concordance,  on  a  new  plan. 
Choate  finds  a  great  deal  of  business  to  do  as 
President  of  the  0.  C.  Railroad.  I  have  not  called 
on  him  since  his  return  from  his  summer  stay  at 
Marblehead  (I  believe  it  was).  Dunham  Hedge 
died  some  two  months  ago.  I  believe  I  have  told 
you  every  time  I  have  written  of  Michael  Norton's 
death.  Probably  also  of  Mr.  Batchelder's  and  Cap 
tain  Hastings's,  but  it's  no  harm  to  impress  the 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  171 

necrology  on  your  memory.  The  doctor  goes  quietly 
along  —  he  is  treasurer  of  the  New  York  and  N. 
England  railroad  as  well  as  of  the  Gas  Co.  .  .  . 

Palmer  reads  the  Odyssey  in  Harvard,  and  I 
think  Child  reads  Chaucer.1  They  are  going  to 
have  four  or  five  subscription  concerts  at  Sanders 
Theatre  this  winter,  as  last.  The  Gymnasium  is 
nearly  or  quite  finished.  Sever  Hall  has  got  to  its 
growth  as  they  say  —  in  point  of  height  —  and 
will  be  a  handsome  building.  It  is  to  have  orna 
mental  mouldings  done  in  the  brick  itself. 

With  regard  to  our  local  market  (in  Appian  Way) 
I  think  myself  that  "pie  apples"  have  been  over 
done  and  are  rather  languid.  "Rags"  continue 
steady.  If  I  had  made  any  perambulations  lately  I 
should  tell  you  of  them  but  I  have  taken  almost  all 
my  walks  close  about  home  or  in  Boston. 

I  hope,  my  dear  James,  that  this  chaotic  letter 
will  find  both  you  and  Mrs.  Lowell  so  well,  that 
both  can  bear  with  equanimity  its  erratic  tedious- 
ness.  I  send  kind  remembrances  and  love  from 
J.  B.  and  C.  C.,  and  if  they  don't  ratify  it  I  will  let 
you  know. 

Don't  feel  constrained  to  answer  this  —  no,  not 
in  the  least.  Is  n't  "/ace"  Latin  for  a  candle.  A 
word  to  the  wise.  My  kindest  regards  and  con 
gratulations  to  Mrs.  Lowell  on  her  improvement. 

1  Professors  G.  H.  Palmer  and  F.  J.  Child  gave  evening  readings, 
open  to  the  public. 


172  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  1,  1879. 
I  sent  you  a  letter  some  time  since  of  a  cheerful 
complexion,  thinking  that  as  things  were  improving 
with  you,  you  might  like  something  faintly  rose- 
tinged  from  0.  G.  I  don't  keep  a  very  great  deal 
of  that  color  on  hand,  so  I  don't  think  it  likely  that 
it  was  overcharged.  I  have  been  on  the  point  for 
some  days  of  wedding  the  female  "plume"  to  the 
male  "papier"  and  am  now  as  you  see  performing 
the  ceremony.  Is  that  poetical  enough  for  ye?  I 
am  now  contending  against  a  strong  impulse  to 
repeat  my  last  letter  word  for  word,  circumstances 
and  ideas  being  much  the  same  as  at  that  date. 
No.  5  Appian  Way  is  the  centre  from  which  my 
thoughts  radiate  and  from  which  my  views  of  the 
great  world  are  mostly  shaped.  If  A.  W.  is  quiet 
and  serene  I  infer  that  the  rest  of  the  habitable 
world  is  in  the  same  case  —  if  A.  W.  is  tumultuous 
with  the  energies  of  trade  or  from  other  cause  I 
appreciate  the  elements  of  unrest  that  lurk  in  all 
places  and  all  forms  of  government.  Such  is  local 
influence  which  I  have  no  doubt,  James,  you  will 
allow  for.  I  should  say  just  now  that  this  continent 
was  in  a  very  tranquil  state  —  A.  W.  is  eminently 
so.  The  weather  has  been  since  September  pretty 
largely  mild,  with  occasional  threats  of  premature 
winter.  The  farmers  in  the  interior  of  N[ew] 
E[ngland]  a  part  of  them  got  caught  by  the  snow 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  173 

with  their  potatoes  in  the  ground  and  apples  on 
the  trees,  but  have  since  had  the  blockade  raised, 
and  we  may  conjecture  dug  their  potatoes  with 
something  of  spasmodic  energy.  So  much  for 
weather  which  finally,  and  to  conclude,  was  this 
morning  in  A.  W.  (I  don't  vouch  for  it  anywhere 
else),  brisk  at  about  20°  and  fair  —  this  evening 
was  a  grain  clouded  and  mildening  when  I  made 
my  social  tour. 

We  have  had  the  caucus,  the  delegates,  the  con 
vention  and  a  nominee,  Hall,  a  business  man  in 
Boston,  for  Mayor,  and  a  second  caucus,  etc.,  a 
second  nominee,  Fox,  for  the  same  office,  the  object 
of  all  hands  however  being  the  same,  viz.  to  con 
tinue  the  City  government  in  the  course  of  econ 
omy  and  "pay  as  you  go"  which  has  prevailed  for 
two  or  three  last  years.  Tomorrow  is  voting  day 
and  I  may  hold  important  destinies  in  my  hand 
should  I  chance  to  have  the  casting  vote,  which  is 
not  probable.  The  caucuses  were  very  well  at 
tended.  People  are  waking  up  to  the  importance 
of  primary  meetings. 

J.  B.  has  had  (I  suppose  acute)  bronchitis  for 
nearly  a  month;  is  somewhat  improving. 

I  saw  him  tonight  after  tea,  for  the  second  time 
only,  as  talking  makes  him  cough.  He  wished  me 
to  come  in  to  the  tea  table  where  he  was,  and  he 
looked  quite  well  considering  —  he  ratifies  the  ex 
pressions  of  good  will  that  I  sent  in  my  last  on  his 
account  and  renews  them  for  this  letter.  I  called 


174  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

in  on  Ghoate  as  I  came  down  —  he  also  ratifies, 
confirms  and  renews  his  kind  regards  to  you. 
•  He  has  a  grandson  about  a  week  old;  —  he  tells 
me  that  he  has  bought  a  farm  for  his  son  very  near 
Edward  Burnett's.  I  think  he  feels  the  work  of 
O.  G.  President  to  be  very  heavy. 

Horatio  Bigelow 1  wrote  me  from  London  the 
other  day  desiring  a  letter  of  introduction  to  you. 
He  thinks  to  visit  Spain  in  the  early  Spring,  so  I  am 
sending  you  very  early  advance  sheets  as  they  say 
of  the  introduction.  I  will  remind  you  now  that 
he  married  a  daughter  of  Albert  Smith  of  Portland 
and  a  niece  (I  believe  it  is)  of  Admiral  Smith,  whose 
son  perished  in  the  attack  of  the  Merrimac  on  the 
Congress  and  Cumberland  frigates.  He  is  a  man 
whom  I  think  you  will  like  very  much,  with  a  fine 
modest  manliness  that  neither  exaggerates  nor 
depreciates  itself,  but  meets  the  world  handsomely 
on  its  merits.  I  like  him  and  his  wife  and  family 
very  much  myself,  though  not  having  had  much 
acquaintance  with  the  two  latter,  —  by  family  I 
mean  the  two  daughters  who  with  their  mother  will 
accompany  him,  whom  I  saw  when  I  made  a  little 
visit  to  him  a  year  or  two  since.  They  are  High 
Church,  as  perhaps  you  know. 

I  think  I  must  have  told  you  in  my  last  —  yea  I 
am  quite  sure  —  that  I  went  to  Mount  Desert  this 
summer  and  bounced  about  with  young  people  in 
buckboards —  combining  I  hope  some  of  the  youth- 

1  Horatio  Bigelow,  a  classmate  of  Holmes;  died  in  1888, 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  175 

ful  qualities  of  Telemachus  with  the  venerable  as 
pect  of  Mentor. 

I  don't  believe  that  I  told  you  of  my  going  to  a 
conference  at  Waltham  as  Delegate  last  summer, 
and  how  I  made  the  Report,  and  how  I  met  Judge 
Hoar,  and  how  we  smoked  in  a  vehicle  in  the  shed 
during  the  intermission  and  after  the  lunch,  and 
how  I  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  hospitable  at 
tentions  of  the  Waltham  maidens.  I  quite  like  such 
things  —  they  remind  me  of  Primitive  Christian 
ity  though  the  ice  cream  is  a  little  ante-chron 
ical  —  but  then  I  did  not  get  any  of  it  to  disturb 
my  associations. 

Father  Scully  down  at  the  Port  is  making  a  move 
to  take  the  Catholic  children  out  of  the  schools,  and 
establishing  parochial  schools  in  their  place;  but  I 
hardly  think  he  carries  his  people  well  with  him.  I 
declare,  James,  when  I  wrote  this  last  I  forgot  all 
about  the  Inquisition.  I  am  sorry  I  touched  upon  it. 

Don't  feel  in  the  least  bothered  about  answering 
this  —  I  shall  write  again  soon.  My  best  hopes  for 
you  and  Mrs.  Lowell  go  with  this,  and  I  subscribe 
myself 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

December  5,  1879. 

Since  I  wrote  the  foregoing  four  pages  I  have  had 
doubts  raised  in  my  mind  whether  you  were  yet  in 
a  situation  to  enjoy  a  letter  written  in  the  ordinary 


176  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

tone,  and  I  thought  to  substitute  a  mere  expression 
of  my  affection  and  sympathy  for  you;  but  on  look 
ing  over  what  I  have  written  I  find  it  of  so  very 
quiet  a  complexion  that  I  conclude  to  send  it  to 
morrow.  It  is  now  about  5,  almost  dark,  —  the 
day  has  been  mild  and  still  and  sunshiny,  and  the 
mud  from  late  rain  pretty  flagrant  —  no,  pretty 
deep  in  the  street. 

I  voted  on  Tuesday  (which  was  like  today  for 
weather)  for  Hall  who  was  chosen  by  some  140 
majority  only  over  Fox  —  both  candidates  pro 
fessing  to  be  of  the  same  financial  mind,  and  econ 
omy  being  equally  professed  as  the  chief  aim  by  both 
parties.  It  is  said  that  a  very  few  years  persist 
ence  in  the  course  taken  for  the  last  three  years  will 
materially  lighten  our  taxes  by  paying  off  our  debt. 

I  met  Professor  Child  at  the  polls,  and  have  the 
pleasure  of  sending  you  his  love,  clearly  and  explic 
itly  expressed. 

I  had  three  nephews  to  dine  with  me  on  Thanks 
giving  day. 

I  went  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gurney  on  Wednes 
day  evening  to  Palmer's  reading  of  the  llth  book 
of  the  Odyssey  which  was  exceedingly  well  done. 
We  all  had  our  Odysseys  and  followed  the  reading. 

You  may  have  heard  —  you  probably  have  —  of 
the  Chinese  Professor1  so  called  —  being  one  of 
their  learned  men,  and  propelled  to  these  shores  as 
I  understand  by  some  generous  influence  in  China, 

1  Ko  Kun-Hua  was  instructor  in  Chinese,  1879-1882. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  177 

perhaps  aided  here.  He  is  situated  like  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield's  son  in  Holland,  who  would  have 
taught  the  Dutch  English  but  discovered  that  he 
must  know  Dutch  first.  So  they  have  been  putting 
the  Professor  through  the  rudiments  of  English. 
He  has  an  interpreter,  so  that  he  possibly  might 
begin  instruction,  but  I  hear  that  there  has  not 
been  one  application  to  learn.  A  month  or  two 
since  the  universal  question  was,  "Have  you  seen 
(or,  called  on)  the  Chinese  Professor?"  He  lives 
now  with  his  family,  wife  and  several  children,  in 
the  brick  block  on  Mason  St. 

Dr.  Gray's  new  house,  "The  Rectory"  on  the 
Seminary  grounds,  is  finished  to  appearance  (Van 
Brunt,  Architect)  and  is  I  think  in  good  keeping 
with  the  other  buildings. 

I  ought  to  have  said  that  the  Chinese  Professor 
attended  a  party  at  Mrs.  Swan's  in  Berkeley  Street 
two  or  three  weeks  since,  and  was  quite  the  central 
figure  —  he  is  of  refined  manners,  I  hear. 

Now,  James,  I  am  going  to  close  my  script,  al 
ways  hoping  that  you  will  very  soon  be,  if  you  are 
not  now,  in  a  condition  to  enjoy  a  stupid  letter 
from  a  friend  who  hails  from  Old  Cambridge. 

Never  think  about  answering  unless  circum 
stances  have  fairly  brightened  up,  so  that  it  would 
be  an  easy  and  natural  performance.  With  much 
love  to  you  and  to  my  poor  Mrs.  Lowell,  who  I 
hope  is  now  well  recovering, 

Yours  truly. 


178  L  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  22,  1880. 

The  accounts  from  you  are  now  favorable  and  I 
trust  you  are  in  a  way  to  enjoy  life  again.  I  know 
you  have  had  a  dreadful  time  but  I  hope  it  has  not 
pulled  you  down  beyond  the  power  to  recover  your 
old  cheerfulness. 

I  can  only  attempt  to  give  you  a  little  pleasure 
by  a  simple  account  of  things  here.  It  is  so  little  of 
a  narrative  too,  that  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin 
it.  If  a  bear  should  undertake  to  give  an  account 
of  his  hibernation,  he  would  be  rather  put  to  it  to 
make  his  communication  fill  a  quarter  of  a  page  like 
this.  I  entirely  sympathise  with  him.  But  it  would 
have  a  sort  of  Old  Cambridge  flavor  if  I  should  say, 
"  On  such  a  day  I  started  from '  down  in  town '  (not, 
'the  square')  and  reached  Boston  by  the  way  of 
Lechmere's  Point  (alias  the  P'int)  took  the  time 
from  the  Old  State  House  clock,  and  going  by 
Court  Street  to  the  office  returned  over  West 
Boston  Bridge  (I  think  it  used  to  be  spelt  with  a 
capital  B)  and  so  by  Cambridge  Port  over  Clark's 
Hill  (Broadway)  to  No.  5  Appian  Way,  where  I 
found  that  the  walking  had  responded  with  its  usual 
sensitiveness  to  the  weather,  being  in  a  very  tender 
mood."  But  alack!  I  am  not  strong  on  this  humble 
species  of  narrative,  being  just  now  rather  held  at 
home  by  that  venerable  sheet  anchor  —  my  knee. 

I  went  on  December  17th  evening  to  a  (first) 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  179 

lecture  on  Ancient  Rome  by  a  Mr.  Spalding  who 
married  one  of  the  Plymptons.  The  lecture  was 
in  the  Orthodox  church  near  the  railroad  station, 
formerly  the  Baptist  church  near  our  house.  I  went 
with  Henry  Ware.  I  enjoyed  it  —  plenty  of  stere- 
opticon,  and  very  good  —  the  explication  and  nar 
ration  good  also.  I  enjoyed  it  much.  Perhaps  a 
new  opera-glass  —  bought  that  day  —  gave  a  se 
cret  chattel  charm  to  the  lecture,  which  my  intel 
lectual  portion  scorned  to  acknowledge;  but  at 
any  rate  I  was  thoroughly  Romanized  for  the  time. 
If  anybody  had  addressed  me  as  I  came  out  as 
Johannes  Holmesino  I  think  I  should  have  said, 
"  Quid  ais,  Romane,"  or  something  else  that  was  n't 
quite  the  right  thing,  for  I  never  expect  to  get 
Latin  right.  As  we  were  going  up  I  said  to  H.  W. 
"This  is  April  weather,"  which  ,it  was  precisely, 
but  when  we  came  out,  the  weather  cock  having 
meanwhile  given  a  hint  to  the  Genius  of  Winter 
(shall  I  say)  by  setting  his  nose  in  a  N.  West  direc 
tion,  it  was  bitterly  cold,  and  was  next  morning 
something  like  12°  above  —  Marry  come  up,  say  5° 
real  cold  winter  weather  any  how,  so  I  reversed 
Hannibal,  had  my  Capua  first  at  the  lecture  and 
the  Alps  afterward.  D  'ye  call  that  classical  —  A 
little  so,  eh?  Well,  my  knee  up  and  told  me  to  stop 
that  business,  not  to  go  to  another  Rome  lecture, 
and  I  have  not  been. 

I  went  to  a  Lyceum  Hall  concert  though,  about 
a  week  ago,  because  it  savored  of  the  pristine 


180  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

(Cantabrigian)  age.  A  son  of  our  old  friend  Nat 
Munro,  the  singer,  was  to  perform  (inter  alios)  on 
the  flute.  The  bill  of  fare  mentioned  "the  follow 
ing  artists,"  etc.  There  was  also  a  son  of  Daniels, 
a  very  fair  tenor.  I  sat  it  all  through,  and  applauded 
most  loyally,  sometimes  obligato  with  my  hands 
and  occasionally  staccato  with  my  cane.  Musical 
error  —  Both  were  staccato  of  course.  "Len." 
Daniels  is  gone,  poor  fellow,  a  number  of  months 
since.  I  don't  know  whether  I  told  you.  Old  Mrs. 
Chamberlain  (formerly  Lyon,  widow  of  Leonard) 
died  a  week  last  Monday,  and  Mr.  Dana,  of  the 
Bank,  has  just  departed,  aged  99  as  I  hear. 

We  have  just  seen,  within  a  day  or  two,  your 
appointment  to  England.1  I  hope  you  are  so  situ 
ated  that  you  can  accept.  At  all  events  that  you 
can  duly  enjoy  the  honor. 

I  am  going  to  write  to  Mabel  for  a  more  particu 
lar  account  of  you. 

Charles  Storey  came  out  at  about  2  on  Saturday 
with  me  and  dined  and  we  played  pickup  —  also 
discoursed,  and  he  went  at  about  8. 

Cambridge  is  in  a  very  tranquil  state.  If  Gov. 
Winthrop  or  Deputy  Gov.  Endicott  could  revive  a 
little  while,  I  think  we  should  hear  a  few  words  of 

1  On  January  20,  1880,  President  Hayes  appointed  Lowell  Minis 
ter  to  England.  Secretary  of  State  Evarts,  in  cabling  the  announce 
ment,  said  (the  President)  "regards  it  as  essential  to  the  public  serv 
ice  that  you  should  accept  and  make  your  personal  arrangements  to 
repair  to  London  as  early  as  may  be."  Lowell  in  his  reply  said :  "Could 
accept  if  allowed  two  months'  delay.  Impossible  to  move  or  leave  my 
wife  sooner." 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  181 

doctrine,  here  and  elsewhere,  that  would  make  a 
stir  for  a  while. 

Henry  Ware  went  yesterday  Delegate  to  a  Con 
ference  at  Newton  Corner  and  returned  in  a  good 
frame,  having  been  hospitably  cared  for. 

Your  aft.  old  friend. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TOWARDS  SUNSET 

IN  1880  Mr.  Holmes  had  a  hankering  to  see 
Europe  again.  The  impression  of  the  discomforts 
of  the  earlier  visit  had  worn  off.  Perhaps  he  wearied 
a  little  of  his  routine  life  and  the  shortness  of  its 
tether:  perhaps  he  hoped  against  hope,  as  chronic 
invalids  will,  that  a  change  of  scene  would  benefit 
him.  For  his  lameness  grew  worse  rather  than 
better,  and  to  it  was  added  the  affliction  of  inter 
mittent  trouble  with  his  eyes.  So  in  the  late  spring 
he  packed  up  and  set  sail  as  valiantly  as  could  be 
expected  of  an  invalid  68  years  old.  After  a  short 
excursion  to  Norway  he  crossed  to  Holland  and 
then  went  up  the  Rhine  to  Bonn,  where  he  estab 
lished  himself  for  a  longer  stay. 

The  third  letter  that  follows  he  wrote  to  the 
young  daughter  of  his  old  crony,  Dr.  Charles  Ware. 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

BONN,  September  24,  1880. 
MY  DEAR  J.  B.,  or,  I  will  say, 
MY  DEAR  BARTLETT  PAIR, — 

I  do  hope  that  all  goes  well  with  you,  and  that  I 
shall  hear  so,  —  receive  word  to  that  effect,  —  un 
der  the  hand  of  the  senior  partner  of  the  firm. 

London,  Hull,  Christiania,  Amsterdam,  Rotter 
dam,  Bonn  —  That  is  the  route  that  I  have  been, 


TO   JOHN  BARTLET1V  183 

and  you  will  find  it  much  better  than  a  poor 
skimble-skamble,  halfway  itinerary. 

I  have  been  here  in  Bonn  about  two  months  and 
almost  all  that  time  in  my  room  —  but  have  made 
myself  pretty  cheerful  working  away  at  my  hobby. 

Not  but  that  my  thoughts  have  travelled  Cam- 
bridgeward  many  times  and  taken  a  number  of 
silent  trips  up  Brattle  Street. 

I  am  getting  back  to  about  my  former  condition. 

I  wish  that  you,  J.  B.,  would  write  me  with  as 
much  friendship  as  when  you  wrote  me  before,  if 
not  with  quite  so  much  steam. 

If  you  will  only  write  me  the  history  of  your 
quarter  of  the  town  since  I  have  been  gone,  in 
cluding  most  expressly  your  own  and  Mrs.  B.'s 
summer  experience,  —  I  should  enjoy  it  much. 

And  here  a  thought  strikes  me.  A  man  would  n't 
fear  half  so  much  the  task  of  writing  to  a  friend 
abroad  if  it  did  n't  seem  to  demand  such  an  extent 
of  information  because  it  was  going  so  far. 

I  therefore  change  the  form  of  my  request  — 
Just  jot  me  down  briefly  the  events  of  the  summer, 
mostly  of  your  own  experience  —  and  hold  out 
some  hope  that  you  will  write  again.  It  is  scarcely 
more  to  send  a  letter  here  than  to  Boston,  and  there 
is  therefore  no  need  to  make  a  heavy  job  of  it. 
Then,  if  you  would  wish  to  know  any  particulars 
of  my  trip  —  or  of  my  residence  here  —  I  will  with 
much  pleasure  impart. 

I  saw  James  in  London  a  number  of  times  —  but 


184  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

what  with  official  and  social  engagements  his  time 
was  much  taken  up.  I  have  heard  from  him  since 
I  was  here.  I  should  think  he  was  getting  a  little 
tired  of  public  life.  Mrs.  Lowell,  he  says,  is  learning 
again,  to  walk. 

I  know  this  is  a  shockingly  meagre  letter  but 
write  me  on  all  the  familiar  home  topics  —  and  if 
you  care  for  a  more  minute  account  of  my  move 
ments  I  will  give  it  with  great  pleasure. 

I  have  several  letters  on  hand  —  have  just  writ 
ten  two  —  a  part  of  the  several,  —  and  must  stop 
now.   I  send  this  to  the  Post  as  they  say  here,  to 
morrow  and  have  another,  or  two  more  to  write. 
So  I  subscribe 

With  a  hearty  desire  to  see  you  both 
Very  truly 

Your  old  friend 

JOHN  HOLMES, 
Please  direct  to  J.  H., 

No.  1  Thoma  Strasse, 

Bonn,  Germany. 

Saturday  morning,  September  25. 

You  must  excuse  this  very  meagre  letter  which  I 
have  just  looked  over.  I  had  so  much  to  write  that 
I  got  eyes,  and  even  my  old  friend  the  knee,  used  up. 

I  had  an  exceedingly  pleasant  passage  out,  and 
after  that  nothing  very  much  out  of  the  common 
way  —  in  fact  I  have  been  a  lame  old  man  —  and 
that  makes  all  the  difference.  I  have  not  been  able 
to  knock  about  though  better  than  when  here  before. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  185 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

BONN,  November  18,  1880. 

Fine  weather  for  some  ten 
days,  after  several  weeks'  cold 
rain  —  a  drop  or  two  of  snow, 
and  general  baddishness. 

MY  DEAR  J.  B.,  — 

I  was  thinking  to  write  you  that  you  need  not 
bother  yourself  about  writing  to  me,  knowing  what 
a  horrid  boar  (how  do  you  spell  that  —  most  for 
gotten  my  English)  it  often  is  even  to  friends  and 
growing  worse  the  longer  they  wait,  till  his  tusks 
stick  out  about  a  foot,  and  they  are  shy  of  going 
near  him  (how  do  you  like  this  parenthesis  style? 
rather  neat  is  n't  it?)  —  when  on  November  8  in 
the  morning  I  received  your  capital  letter  post 
marked  October  19. 

You  ought  to  have  witnessed  my  enthusiastic 
demonstrations  after  reading  it.  I  was  tempted  to 
answer  on  the  moment  —  but  I  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  with  my  eyes,  and  I  was  n't  up  to  it. 

I  only  give  you  a  receipt  for  your  letter  now,  — 
but  when  better  will  repay  good  with  evil  by  giving 
you  a  more  circumstantial  and  tedious  account  of 
my  proceedings  than  hitherto  —  and  should  be 
glad  at  the  same  time — if  I  were  learned  enough  — 
to  write  Sister  Bartlett  a  letter  in  High  Dutch. 

One  curious  thing  I  must  mention  —  I  heard 
that  "Hullo"  when  you  first  mentally  uttered  it. 


186  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  was  exceedingly  perplexed.  "That's  Brother 
Bartlett"  —  I  said  —  "Sure  -  -  What  can  he 
want?"  and  then  it  flashed  across  me. 

"It's  the  old  Smelters!"  I  exclaimed;  "they 
want  me!  I  know  all  the  places  in  Massachusetts 
Bay  where  there  are  n't  any  smelts  and  I  could 
show  them  the  others." 

And  I  felt  pretty  badly  for  a  little  while  —  as 
you  may  think. 

I  won't  write  any  more  now. 

Give  my  love  to  Sister  Bartlett. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

BONN,  December  2,  1880. 

No.  1,  Thoma  Strasse. 
MEINE  LIEBE  MARIECHEN, — 

(that  is  all  the  Deutsch  I  can  spare) 
I  wish  I  had  material  for  a  pleasant  letter,  but 
I  don't  see  it.  [I  can  give  no  equivalent  for  the 
pleasant  letters  that  your  papa  and  you  so  kindly 
sent  me,  and  you  must  be  content  with  the  con 
sciousness  of  unrequited  generosity.] 

I  seem  to  have  been  landed  here  in  the  second 
story  of  my  pension  in  my  little  island  much  as 
R.  Crusoe  was  tossed  up  on  his  strand ;  but  I  have 
not  found  my  man  Friday,  unless  possibly  in  the 
person  of  Herr  Ludwig,  brother-in-law  of  my  old 
landlady.  He  was  several  years  in  Australia  dig 
ging  gold,  of  which  he  got  a  moderate  portion,  and 


TO    MISS   M.    L.   WARE  187 

is  now  Lieutenant  General  in  the  pension.  We 
occasionally  wander  in  "the  Bush"  together.  He 
tells  me  of  this  man  who  delved  industriously  with 
out  a  ray  of  gold-shine,  and  of  two  men  (in  com 
pany)  who  at  the  very  first  digging  came  across  a 
fortune  for  both  and  went  home  in  the  next  ship. 
There  was  a  moral  attached  though,  for  one  or 
both  took  to  the  other  kind  of  quarts  and  drank 
themselves  back  to  their  "point  of  beginning,"  as 
deeds  have  it.  —  But  I  must  not  retail  Herr 
Ludwig's  stories  to  you. 

Bonn  is  a  pretty  place  enough,  rather  straggling. 
There  is  a  little  nucleus  of  the  old  town  remaining, 
nothing  to  speak  of.  You  and  I,  who  have  read 
Freeman,  know  how  they  used  to  batter  and  burn 
down  the  towns  with  their  sieges  every  few  years  — 
I  don't  know  exactly  what  for;  unless  to  encourage 
the  citizens  to  build  —  and  they  could  n't  have  a 
greater  inducement;  but  I  don't  pretend  to  go  into 
the  philosophy  of  history.  —  The  newer  part  is  all 
of  brick  stuccoed  —  a  style  of  which  I  am  rather 
tired  —  I  think  it  very  shabby  compared  with 
our  faced  brick.  Sidewalks  poor  —  some  pleasure 
grounds  with  fine  trees  —  but  not  very  spacious  or 
well-kept,  I  think.  But  I  can't  go  about  and  view 
things  leisurely  —  I  content  myself  with  my  regu 
lar  walk  —  now  that  I  can  walk  —  in  the  outskirts 
where  my  pension  is.  But  the  country  is  naturally 
beautiful.  It  is  the  rich  valley  of  the  Rhine,  and 
every  growth  gives  a  hint  of  a  fine,  strong  soil.  The 


188  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

rich  level  is  bounded  in  the  distance  with  fine  hills, 
and  even  a  young  mountain  or  two.  I  have  found  in 
my  short  walks  a  splendid  poplar  eighty  or  ninety 
feet  high,  I  should  think.  It  is  among  the  "half- 
hardy"  trees  and  suffers  with  us;  but  I  am  remind 
ed  here  what  a  fine  tree  it  may  be.  It  seems  to  me 
that  in  tree-architecture  the  poplar  is  the  spire, 
and  serves  a  good  purpose  as  such  among  the  lower 
trees. 

My  eyes  are  getting  tired  —  and  I  want  to  have 
this  go  this  afternoon  by  the  messenger  who  takes 
my  letters  to  the  office. 

I  have  not  enlarged  my  acquaintance  out  of  the 
family  —  unless  by  a  sort  of  acquaintance  with  a 
Canon  of  the  Church,  Vitalian  Joseph  Fortiveri  — 
but  he  is  a  deceased  Canon,  died  1842,  aged  ninety- 
one  and  lies  in  the  pretty  Bonn  cemetery  which  I 
go  by  almost  every  morning  on  my  walk. 

I  see  cavalry,  some  hundred  or  so,  occasionally 
in  my  morning  walk,  and  that  reminds  me  that  I 
review  my  troops  pretty  frequently  mounted  on 
my  immense  German  warhorse  (hobby).  I  should 
be  delighted  if  you  could  attend  one  of  my  reviews, 
my  troops  should  offer  you  every  military  honor. 

Accept  this  straggling  letter  with  renewed  thanks 
for  yours.  Give  my  kindest  regards  to  papa  and 
mama  and  believe  me, 

Very  truly  your  old  friend. 

I  have  forgotten  the  flourish  I  promised. 


TO    MISS   E.    Q.    SWAN 


189 


To  Miss  E.  Q.  SWAN 

BONN,  January  28,  1881. 

You  allude  to  my  Deutsch  acquirements.  My 
poor  hobby  has  been  much  neglected.  I  think  I 
have  learned  enough  however  to  puzzle  the  natives 
with  their  own  sprache — and  that  is  something — 

My  lame  eye  like  a  fretful  invalid  says — "There, 
if  you  are  going  to  write,  I  won't  stand  it,"  —  and 
you  know  how  we  have  to  humor  these  invalids. 

I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  with  the  following 
which  I  have  taken  some  pains  to  procure  — 

We,  the  undersigned,  sentimental,  though  not 
actually  social  friends  of  Herr  Holmes,  wishing  to 
send  our  love  to  Fraulein  Elizabeth  Quincy  Swan 
of  Cambridge  U.S.A.  do  accordingly  empower  him 
as  our  attorney  to  send  the  same. 


duck 


7 

4— 1$    u 


little  white  dog 
rooster 

Three 
>  cuckoo 
clocks 


190  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

BONN,  January  29,  1881. 

I,  Joseph  Vitalian  Bonner,  Notary  have  hereto 
as  proxy  affixed  the  signature  of  the  above  parties, 
and  subscribed  my  name. 

JOSEPH  VITALIAN  BONNER. 
NOTARIAL 
SEAL 

In  the  spring  of  1880  Lowell  took  up  his  quarters 
in  London,  where  he  remained,  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  countrymen  and  the  acceptance  of  the  British, 
until  March  1885.  He  welcomed  Holmes  on  his 
appearance  in  London.  Mrs.  Lowell's  health  broke 
down  before  they  left  Spain,  and  her  illness  was  a 
constant  source  of  solicitude  to  John  Holmes  as 
the  letters  which  we  have  read  and  others  that  are 
to  follow  bear  witness.  She  died  February  19, 1885. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

PARIS,  March  25,  1881. 

I  proceed  now  to  answer  your  very  kind  note  of 
March  21. 

I  am  hoping  to  be  in  good  condition  for  a  start 
next  Monday  or  Tuesday  for  Calais  and  Dover.  I 
have  thought  it  best  to  write  to  my  former  hostess 
of  9  Craven  Street  to  be  ready  to  give  me  or  help  to 
get  me  comfortable  lodgings. 

I  shall  be  delighted  to  come  to  your  house  and 
see  Mrs.  Lowell  again  as  well  as  yourself.  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  of  her  improvement. 


TO   J.   R.    LOWELL  191 

I  had  a  letter  to  Doctor  Crane  here,  who  was 
educated  as  physician  but  became  engaged  as  Ed 
itor  of  the  American  Register  published  here.  He 
thinks  that  there  is  no  probability  whatever  of  your 
recall,  and  he  gave  me  his  reasons  very  reasonably 
for  that  opinion  —  says  also  that  you  are  very  pop 
ular  in  England,  which  you  would  probably  not 
need  his  statement  to  learn. 

I  am  delighted  with  your  lines  "In  Arcadia," 
which  I  found  in  a  number  of  the  Parisian. 

My  kindest  regards  and  congratulations  on  her 
improvement, — Mrs.  Lowell.  My  love  to  you  both. 

Your  old  friend. 

I  have  been  somewhat  laid  up,  but  have  not 
mentioned  it  to  friends  at  home  but  vaguely  —  so 
if  you  or  Mrs.  Lowell  write  home,  don't  speak  of 
it,  please. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  22,  1881. 

Don't  think  it  strange  that  you  have  not  heard 
from  me  earlier. 

I  had  much  ado  to  shake  myself  down  into  the 
old  situation,  and  then  I  had  to  go  about  and  in 
form  my  friends  of  my  absence  for  a  year  so  that 
they  might  congratulate  me  on  my  return. 

I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  found  everything,  and 
almost  everybody  in  statu  quo.  I  did  n't  miss  even 
a  single  familiar  voice  from  the  chorus  of  cats  which 


192  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

performs  nightly,  under  the  leadership  as  I  am  fain 
to  think  of  our  Tom.  The  poor  fellow  has  paid 
dearly  for  the  distinction;  somebody  fired  saltpetre 
into  him,  which  has  had  a  dismal  effect  on  his  con 
stitution  and  there  is  a  subdued  whisper  about 
chloroform. 

If  you  were  talking  with  me  now  you  would  be 
sure  to  ask  me  if  I  went  to  the  Greek  Play.1  That 
question  was  asked  here  25,000  times,  allowing 
50  interrogatories  to  each  of  500  people.  Well,  as 
you  ask  me,  I  answer  that  I  did  go,  and  to  the  best 
of  my  knowledge  and  belief  all  was  very  Greek 
except  the  music,  which  made  the  comments  and 
forebodings  of  the  chorus  rather  uproarious  and 
was  said  to  be  in  itself  very  good. 

If  you  have  heard  anything  from  Cambridge  you 
must  have  heard  all  about  the  "Greek  Play."  So  I 
say  no  more.  Such  a  pretty  Jocasta! 

I  don't  believe  your  village  patriotism  is  impaired 
a  bit,  although  maybe  overlaid  at  present  by  the 
pleasures  of  English  society.  If  I  strolled  about  as 
I  did  in  younger  days  I  should  send  you  the  impres 
sions  of  my  walks,  to  recall  familiar  places  —  but  I 
do  little  more  than  to  visit  in  the  evening  and  make 
occasional  grand  expeditions  to  Boston,  where  I 
collogue  in  a  very  moderate  way  with  Charles 
Storey. 

1  The  (Edipus  Rex  of  Sophocles  was  performed  by  Harvard  stu 
dents  in  Sanders  Theatre,  Cambridge,  in  May,  1881.  The  music  was 
composed  by  Professor  J.  K.  Paine.  Leonard  E.  Opdycke,  of  the 
Class  of  1880,  played  Jocasta. 


TO   J.    R.   LOWELL  193 

Although  in  abeyance,  you  must  not  forget  the 
Club.  J.  B.  is  at  work  on  a  concordance  of  Shake 
speare  and  becomes  so  eager  to  finish  his  work  that 
it  quite  absorbs  him.  I  see  him  but  little. 

Choate  continues  to  work  harder  than  he  likes  to, 
always  holding  up  visions  of  retirement  and  a  farm. 
I  have  seen  him  once  since  I  returned. 

J.  R.  L.  and  Mrs.  L.  are  abundantly  enquired 
after  and  I  give  the  best  account  of  them.  Indeed, 
my  last  call  upon  you  (when  there  was  a  rest  in  the 
invitations)  left  an  impression  quite  like  that  of  a 
call  here  at  home,  a  very  pleasant  one  —  for  of 
course  it  was  the  pleasantest  way  of  seeing  you 
possible,  and  it  gives  a  more  lively  flavor  to  all  my 
answers  to  enquiring  friends.  I  should  have  liked 
right  well  to  have  made  a  longer  session  than  I 
did. 

At  this  point  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  went  to 
Liverpool  on  the  12th  of  April,  sailed  on  the  13th 
and  arrived  on  Sunday  the  24th.  I  found  that,  un 
known  to  myself  and  without  effort  on  my  part,  I 
had  acquired  such  popularity  abroad  that  some 
nine  hundred  foreign  citizens  insisted  on  accom 
panying  or  rather  escorting  me  to  my  native  shore. 
The  Sunday  that  we  arrived  was  very  cold  at  7  or 
thereabouts  when  I  went  on  deck,  and  I  inferred 
harsh  weather  on  shore;  but  in  the  afternoon  in 
Boston  harbor  it  was  a  hot  summer  day. 

I  have  actually  been  out  to  Class  Day  —  to  the 
performances  in  the  Sanders  Theatre,  and  after- 


194  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

ward  to  one  of  the  College  Society  rooms.  What 
used  in  my  day  to  make  a  little  world  of  itself  is 
now  so  closely  surrounded  by  a  bigger  world,  as  to 
be  relatively  dwindled.  The  whole  affair  seemed, 
as  regarded  myself,  rather  irrelevant,  except  so  far 
as  I  might  rejoice  in  the  growth  of  other  people's 
olive  branches.  I  was  persuaded  to  go  to  the  dance 
about  the  tree  and  on  my  return  found  Charles 
Storey  here,  who  is  now  with  me  and  sends  his  love 
to  you. 

Don't  feel  any  irksome  necessity  to  write  an  an 
swer  to  this,  for  I  know  well  how  you  are  pressed 
with  business  and  social  demands  on  you.  We  all 
take  great  pleasure  to  see  you  filling  your  place  so 
very  handsomely  (perhaps  I  may  say  brilliantly,  by 
your  leave). 

If  I  thought  of  anything  to  tell  you  that  I  did  n't 
think  already  told,  you  should  have  it.  Accept  this 
poor  letter  only  as  a  token  of  my  affection  for  you. 
Give  my  love  and  best  wishes  to  Mrs.  Lowell  and 

believe  me, 

Yours  sincerely. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  2,  1881. 

I  will  send  you  a  line  informing  you  that  I  still 
inhale  the  vital  here  in  our  old  town. 

I  have  been  exceedingly  pleased  with  your  speech 
in  Exeter  Hall  (among  many  others).  Indeed  I  can 
say  that  throughout,  as  U.  S.  M.,  "you  have  my 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  195 

approbation,"  and,  if  you  please,  insert  " highest" 
between  the  two  last  words. 

I  asked  all  about  you  from  Susan  Carter  and 
was  very  glad  to  hear  of  Mrs.  Lowell's  great  im 
provement,  and  of  your  continuance  in  statu  quo, 
which  I  thought  a  very  good  one. 

We  had  our  Class  Dinner  some  little  time  since. 
John  Dwight,  on  his  invitation,  urged  "the  sur 
vivors"  to  attend.  Twelve  were  present  and  very 
sufficiently  venerable  they  looked.  Every  one 
there  undoubtedly  was  impressed  by  the  senes 
cence  of  eleven  others  —  told  his  wife  so,  if  he  had 
one,  and  then  looked  in  the  glass  to  see  the  twelfth 
man,  the  exception. 

We  have  n't  had  an  excitement  here  since  the 
Greek  Play  —  which  fairly  supplanted  the  weather 
—  every  one  asking  for  the  first  thing,  "Been  to 
the  Greek  Play?"  and  those  who  had  not  been, 
answering  despondently,  defiantly  or  expectantly 
as  the  case  might  be.  I  went  to  Choate's  at  South- 
boro  about  a  month  since  and  staid  from  Saturday 
to  Monday;  but  Mabel  and  her  husband  with  the 
other  young  folks  were  on  an  excursion.  .  .  . 

We've  had  no  Club  you  know  since  you  went.  I 
should  be  right  glad  to  see  you  home  again,  but  I 
hope  that  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to  stay  as 
long  as  you  wish. 

Your  friends  so  far  as  I  know  are  well.  I  don't 
know  that  you  were  at  all  acquainted  with  Dr. 
Newell  —  his  funeral  took  place  on  Monday.  One 


196  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

old  friend  of  yours  is  in  the  last  stages  of  decay 
to-wit  —  the  Washington  Elm  —  I  was  going  by 
it  and  found  two  men  inspecting  a  large  branch 
which  had  just  come  down  sua  sponte,  or  rather  by 
force  of  gravitation.  We  philosophers  must  deal 
accurately  with  principles  as  far  as  we  go. 

I  don't  wish  you  to  bother  yourself  with  answer 
ing  this.  I  only  write  to  seem  to  keep  up  some  little 
alliance  with  you.  I  have  told  people  here  of  the 
quantity  of  social  business  you  have  to  do  in  addi 
tion  to  the  diplomatic. 

Do  give  my  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Lowell,  and 
congratulate  her  on  the  additional  health  I  pre 
sume  her  to  have  gained,  since  Susan  Carter  came 
away. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  JOHN  BARTLETT 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  7,  1881. 
MY  DEAR  J.  B.,  — 

Methinks  one  who  receives  the  great  budget  of 
Shaksperian  thought  —  its  rays  so  deftly  parted 
and  assorted  that  with  a  few  twirls  of  thumb  and 
finger,  he  can  turn  on,  from  one  candle-power  up 
ward,  and  of  all  hues,  from  a  pink  to  a  thunder 
cloud,  may  well  add  a  word  or  two  to  his  vocal 
acknowledgment. 

"  To  be  acknowledged,  Madam,  is  to  be  o'er  paid." 1 
1  The  Shakespeare  Phrase  Book  was  dedicated  to  Mrs.  Bartlett. 


TO   JOHN   BARTLETT  197 

(This  is  addressed  to  the  H.  B.  of  the  Dedication, 

—  an  ungracious  sentiment  from  a  donee,  which  I 
insert  only  to  illustrate  the  merits  of  the  book.) 

"The  force  of  his  own  merit  makes  his  way." 

(This  to  J.  B.) 

The  preface  I  consider  quite  a  model;  —  saying 
exactly  what  it  wants  to  say  and  no  more  —  per 
fectly  clear  and  concise;  and  the  Dedication  may 
surely  claim  the  two  qualities  I  attribute  to  the 
Preface. 

I  am  glad  that  the  brief  episode  of  the  Waste 
Basket  is  attached  to  the  Magnum  Opus.  The  bold 
emancipation  of  the  author  from  his  own  tyranny 

—  the  ferocious  hurling  of  his  work  to  apparent 
destruction  —  the  savage  exultation  of  the  mob 
(of  one)  —  the  calm  resistance  of  the  conservative 
party  (of  one)  —  the  return  of  the  mob  to  reason, 
and  of  the  tyrant  to  power,  —  when  the  outcast 
of  the  night  before  is  raised  and  hugged  by  the 
repentant  populace  —  it  is  altogether  an  admirable 
dramatic  arrangement,  in  which  a  terrific  combina 
tion  of  tragic  elements  (all  that  the  supposed  spec 
tator  can  bear)  —  suddenly  culminates  in  wise 
resolution  —  unanimous  action  and  general  happi 
ness. —  Had  not  the  insensate  mob  changed  its 
mind. 

"  You  had  then  left  unseen  a  wonderful  piece  of  work." 

Let  me  hope  that  your  furor  for  hard  work,  how 
ever  meritorious,  is  well  abated,  or  cured. 


198  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

"  I  heard  a  grizzled  grandsir  say, 
And  thrice  he  smote  his  crutch  upon  the  floor, 
'Oh,  that  my  life  I  could  again  live  o'er,  - 
For  one  day's  work  I  would  have  three  of  play.'  " 

Listen  to  his  counsel. 
With  kindest  regards  to  the  Bartlett  Pair 

I  am 

Theirs. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  14,  1882. 
MY  DEAR  MINISTER,  — 

When  will  you  return  to  be  re-installed  in  your 
own  First  Parish?  Now  and  then  someone  con 
jectures  that  you  will  never  care  to  come  back  to 
dwell  in  your  old  town.  If  I  thought  you  were  in 
such  a  mood,  I  would  stretch  my  talent  for  nec 
romancy  to  the  uttermost  to  raise  the  shades  of 
venerable  citizens  by  your  bedside  until  your  op- 
pidanism  should  revive.  Holt,  Danforth,  Lyon, 

vinous  B r,  sincere  and  ardent  appreciator  of 

the  alcoholic,  whose  tracks  in  Cambridge,  if  per 
petuated  like  the  birds',  would  be  a  problem  for 
archaeologists  —  these  at  least  should  watch  your 
slumbers  and  I  your  waking.  A  view  of  our  wor 
thies  in  spiritual  vesture  (yet  so  far  corresponding 
to  their  earthly  modes  as  to  preserve,  for  instance, 
Danforth's  tall  hat)  would  start  all  the  old  fan 
cies  now  buried  under  diplomacy  and  London  life. 
Your  enquiry  would  be,  as  you  viewed  the  familiar 


TO   J.    R.   LOWELL  199 

forms,  "What's  the  matter?  Anybody  drowned  at 
the  'Old  Bath'?  Is  Captain  Ruggles  out  with  the 
Light  Infantry?  How  came  you  up  here,  'from  the 
village'?"  And  anon  you  would  catch  a  sniff  of 
marsh  grass  and  willow  catkins  —  become  for  the 
moment  a  child  again  and  weep  copiously  on  find 
ing  yourself  a  diplomat. 

It  is  an  odd  circumstance  that  the  longer  one 
lasts  himself,  the  more  he  descants  on  the  fleeting 
nature  of  all  earthly  things  (reserving  however  al 
ways  a  corner  of  complacency  for  his  own  durabil 
ity).  I  feel  as  if  a  little  discourse  tending  this  way 
might  do  you  good  by  softening  the  membrane  that 
covers  the  sentimental  in  your  constitution,  prob 
ably  a  little  toughened  by  diplomacy  and  London 
life. 

Where  is  Commencement?  I  —  perhaps  you  — 
have  found  no  worldly  spectacle  equal  to  that. 
Have  you  ever  seen  soldiery  that  impressed  you 
with  a  sense  of  destructive  power  like  the  helmeted 
"Light  Horse"?  In  any  realm  have  you  seen  irre 
sistible  force  so  embodied  as  of  yore  in  the  C.  L.  I.1 
when  they  were  in  full  uniform?  You  answer  can 
didly,  No !  I  am  pleased.  In  navigation,  have  you 
met  with  any  marine  vehicle  so  profoundly  typ 
ical  of  the  dangers,  distractions  and  devotions  that 
hover  over  the  deep  as  the  Humane  Society's  Boat? 
Again  you  answer  decidedly,  No,  and  you  are  right. 
You  never  have.  I  have  often  seen  the  tear  glisten 

1  Cambridge  Light  Infantry. 


200  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

in  your  eye  as  I  described  that  craft  making  her  way 
to  the  scene  of  disaster.  I  hope  my  story  would 
not  now  be  met  with  a  jeer.  What  an  inexpressi 
ble  sort  of  calamity  it  would  have  been  if  the  two 
philanthropists  had  perished  by  the  leakiness  of 
the  H.  S.  boat.  How  almost  impossible  to  enter  on 
the  records  of  the  Society.  Why  did  our  band  of 
humanitarians  keep  their  boat  so  alienated  from 
her  element?  I  suppose  the  real  truth  is  that  they 
did  not  expect  to  avail  in  saving  lives  but  only  in 
searching  for  the  dead. 

I  find  old  Cambridge  a  very  pleasant  place  to 
dwell  in  though  I  am  rather  imperfectly  welded  on 
to  what  I  may  call  general  society.  We  have  all 
conveniences  here  for  living  and  for  dying.  We 
have  another  Horse  railroad  —  the  Charles  River; 
also  another  statue  on  the  Common  of  "Bridge" 
one  of  the  first  settlers,  whose  descendant  got  leave 
from  the  town  to  put  up  this  statue,  and  changed 
a  portion  of  his  silver  — -  $5000  I  believe  —  into 
bronze.  Our  people  seem  rather  inclined  to  fall  upon 
it.  They  seem  to  think  it  the  safest  way  to  im 
peach  all  our  art  in  the  first  instance  and  condone 
afterward  if  cause  is  shown. 

Do  you  recollect  the  virulence  with  which  they 
used  to  attack  the  astronomical  pudding  which 
surmounts  the  Observatory,  or  at  any  rate  the 
building,  which  is  simply  designed  for  use  only  and 
I  presume  has  as  much  of  good  looks  as  they  could 
afford  to  pay  for. 


TO   J.   R.   LOWELL  201 

The  new  "Bridge"  is  a  personable  man  enough, 
wears  the  hat  of  Charles  I's  time,  and  by  direction 
of  the  giver  faces,  say  S.  S.  E.,  as  if  he  were  of  a 
migratory  turn  and  might  wish  to  try  farther  down 
the  coast.  He  is  at  the  north  end  of  the  Common 
and  near  North  Avenue. 

So  much  for  the  convenience  and  adornment  of 
life.  On  the  other  hand,  if  one  is  called  on  to  lay 
down  his  fardel  there  can't  be  a  better  man  than 
we  have  to  take  charge  of  any  mortal  relics  he  may 
wish  to  leave  behind.  I  had  been  so  pleased  with 
his  carriage  on  several  mortuary  occasions  that  in 
a  moment  of  enthusiasm  I  told  him  that  he  should 
be  my  dust-man  and  thus  unnecessarily  raised  the 
question  of  survival  between  us.  He  probably  now 
discovers  caducity  in  all  my  movements,  and  for 
my  part  I  consider  his  constitution  to  be  under 
mined  by  funereal  chills. 

We  have  n't  had  a  club  since  you  left  us.  I  think 
I  shall  try  to  get  up  a  three-cornered  party,  or  pos 
sibly  ask  Henry  Ware  as  fourth. 

I  shall  make  myself  the  attorney  of  C.  and  J.  B. 
to  send  you  their  regards. 

I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Lowell  how  warmly  your  name 
was  received  at  Commencement.  Colonel  Lee 
says  that  I  promised  to  send  you  a  paper  with 
an  account  of  the  doings.  I  suppose  you  saw 
the  papers  at  the  time,  but  I  told  him  I  should 
send  a  'Tiser,  and  I  do  so  herewith.  Do  com 
mend  me  kindly  to  Mrs.  Lowell,  to  whom  I 


202  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

wish  all  continuance  of  her  present  reported  good 
health. 

I  have  written  a  quantity  of  stuff  to  make  a  let 
ter  but  on  the  same  terms  on  which  I  have  writ 
ten  before  —  positively  no  answer,  if  you  had  the 
leisure.  All  your  friends  are  well  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge. 

Mr.  Darwin  promised  to  carry  you  my  remem 
brances.  I  like  him  much.  I  was  pleased  to  re 
ceive  a  word  of  remembrance  from  Doctor  Walcott. 

To  Miss  E.  Q.  SWAN 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  17,  1883. 

I  enjoyed  sitting  on  my  friend's  piazza  (West 
Rindge)  perhaps  more  than  at  any  time  before, 
gazing  often  at  Monadnock,  who  in  turn  looked  at 
me  in  a  rather  benevolent  manner.  He  is  an  amiable 
mountain,  of  cheerful  temperament.  He  sometimes 
in  the  afternoon  draws  a  purple  handkerchief  over 
his  face,  and  takes  a  nap.  He  is  very  old,  and  needs 
it.  When  my  two  friends  and  I  mustered  amongst 
us,  our  two  centuries  or  so,  on  the  piazza,  I  thought 
I  could  perceive  a  complacent  smile  on  his  rugged 
face.  But  it  might  be  an  optical  illusion. 

I  was  pleased  on  my  return  to  find  a  few  staunch 
adherents  of  the  Appian  Way  faithfully  at  their 
post.  There  is  a  local  spirit  growing  up  there  tend 
ing  to  the  aggrandizement  of  A.  W.  I  share  it,  and 
advise  occupants  to  say  nothing  depreciatory  of 
it  on  any  occasion.  It  is  the  most  literary  street 


TO    GEORGE   WILLIAM   CURTIS          203 

in  town,  containing  the  annex,1  —  Mr.  Wendell's 
Institution  for  the  instruction  of  youth,  —  two 
Orientalists,  and  Philosophers  in  any  quantity. 

To  GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS 

CAMBRIDGE,  October  6,  1883. 
DEAR  SIR, — 

(I  own  that  this  expression  suggests  a  catholic 
feeling  of  intimacy  as  preceding  acquaintance  with 
the  individual,  but  it  gives  a  pleasant  view  of  the 
probable  relation  of  civilized  man  to  man.) 

You  have  long  known  F.  D.  F.,  and  as  I  have 
learned  from  him  have  lately  given  him  proof  of 
your  kindly  remembrance.  I  am  trying  to  get  him 
into  the  "Aged  Man's  Home,"  in  Boston,  and  a 
number  of  (civic)  lions  stand  in  the  way.  Through 
a  friendly  director,  his  name  is  admitted  by  the 
committee  on  applications,  for  presentment  to  the 
Directors  (whose  unanimous  vote  is  necessary  in 
his  case,  he  not  having  resided  in  Boston  during  the 
ten  years  preceding  his  application).  My  friendly 
Director  suggests  the  value  of  a  letter  from  you,  in 
F.'s  favor,  and  without  (of  course)  dictating  the 
contents,  he  would  like  to  have  your  testimony  in 
the  present  rather  than  in  the  preterite  tense,  — 
as  of  a  man  you  know  rather  than  as  of  a  man  you 
have  known  —  a  friend  of  the  present  day  rather 
than  a  friendly  memory.  Hard  as  F.'s  case  is,  and 

1  The  so-called  Harvard  Annex  or  "Society  for  the  Collegiate 
Instruction  of  Women,"  which  became  Radcliffe  College,  in  1894. 


204  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

though  it  seems  like  laughing  at  a  funeral,  this 
diversion  of  Machiavellism  to  a  humane  purpose 
gives  me  amusement  in  which  I  invite  you  to  share 
as  a  casual,  innocent  profit  resulting  from  an  honest 
enterprise.  But,  if  I  have  a  long  series  of  facts 
which  to  me  constitute  sufficient  acquaintance 
with  a  man's  character,  I  am  not  bound  to  con 
sult  the  artistic  sense  of  a  dozen  directors  in  draw 
ing  the  perspective,  and  I  should  have  no  hesita 
tion  to  vouch  in  Truth  herself  (of  whom  I  believe 
there  is  no  ideal  figure — she  does  n't  seem  to  have 
been  a  favorite)  for  the  correctness  of  my  sketch. 

Then  for  eulogistic  terms.  Honesty  (for  instance) 
is  absolute,  admits  neither  enlargement  nor  di 
minution.  But  the  silversmith,  while  he  neither 
adds  to  the  weight  of  his  metal,  nor  subtracts  from 
it,  enlarges  and  adorns  the  surface,  and  so  "  a  trans 
lucent  honesty,"  "an  aggressive  honesty  which  ab 
hors  and  jostles  fraud,"  "a  kindly  honesty  slow  to 
see  the  impositions  on  itself,"  —  if  any  of  these, 
or  other  varieties  from  the  same  root,  might  work 
more  effectually  upon  the  toughened  sympathies  of 
an  old  director,  I  should  not  hesitate  even  to  search 
the  dictionary  for  amplifications.  On  the  other  hand 
if  the  Good  Samaritan,  upon  no  other  acquaint 
ance  than  a  view  of  the  victim  after  the  assault, 
should  say,  "A  particular  friend  of  mine!  Take 
good  care  of  him,  Landlord!"  I  should  say  that  he 
had  borrowed  a  trifle  from  Truth  to  lend  her  sister 
Charity!  I  say  lend,  as  I  have  no  doubt  he  would 


TO   J.  R.  LOWELL  205 

have  explained  afterward.  If  we  can  furnish  such 
niceties  as  that  would  be  for  Conscience,  in  her  most 
epicurean  mood — I  don't  think  we  are  like  to  go  far 
wrong  in  using  the  means  of  persuasion  in  F.'s  favor. 

To  pluck  a  man  from  an  iceberg  and  place  him 
in  a  warm  bed,  Sanford's  Ginger  within  reach ;  to 
transport  an  old  man  from  the  cold  solitude  of 
Nebraska  to  a  comfortable  home  where  he  can  make 
his  less  hardy  coevals  hug  the  warmth  by  telling 
them  how  his  beard  froze  to  the  bed  last  winter  — 
Philanthropy  so  often  subject  to  chills  could  at 
tain  to  a  healthy  glow  by  only  reflecting  on  such  an 
ideal  of  comfort. 

I  am  sure  you  will  not  mistake  me  as  offering  you 
instructions.  I  merely  enlarge  a  little  on  the  text 
of  my  Kindly  Director. 

I  only  wish  to  get  as  imposing  a  memoir  and  as 
much  of  your  personal  influence  as  the  facts  allow 
you  to  transmit. 

If  you  will  grant  my  request  please  direct  to 
John  Holmes,  5  Appian  Way,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

I  am,  Sir, 

Your  obt.  Servt. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  22,  1883. 
MON   CHER  MlNISTRE 

MEIN  LIEBER  ABGESANDTE, — 

These  two  specimens  must  suffice  to  establish  my 
polyglot  ability.  They  are  meant  as  a  complimen 
tary  equivalent  for  your  French. 


206  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  was  (October  15)  and  am  now  much  obliged  for 
your  kind  letter.  Your  account  of  our  ancient  hotel 
is  charming.  I  could  put  in  the  corner  of  the  pic 
ture  you  have  drawn,  "  Painted  by  J.  R.  L.  after 
the  greatest  of  the  old  masters,  —  Time." 

For  indeed  you  have  reproduced  most  happily 
the  work  of  that  busy  artist  who  is  always  at  work, 
adding  new  touches  to  the  benefit  or  damage  of  his 
sitters,  but  always  beyond  criticism. 

Madame's  rhumatismes  implacables,  the  aplomb  of 
Monsieur  Carrier  in  executing  his  official  duties, 
his  economic  magistrate,  his  tone  plus  nasillardwiih 
snuff  and  years,  and  his  protest  against  the  licence 
of  the  age,  —  not  to  omit  la  bouillic  and  le  petit  vin 
rouge,  all  go  to  replace  me  as  locataire,  and  I  feel 
an  impulse  to  demand  my  key  from  poor  perennial 
Mile.  I  am  pleased  with  Mons.  Carrier's  expres 
sion  "pour  le  principc  de  FAutorite"',  an  Anglican 
or  American  methinks  would  say  "have  nowadays 
no  respect  for  authority,"  and  omit  the  more  philo 
sophical  "le  principe." 

Le  principe  as  represented  by  the  gallows,  wheel, 
etc.,  was  undoubtedly  much  respected  in  old  times. 

I  thank  you  for  the  portraits  of  the  two  new 
garQons  and  the  suggestion  of  the  casual  abbe. 

I  accept  cordially  your  idea  of  Mons.  G.  as  the 
lien  musculaire  between  the  twin  hotels. 

They  were  at  work  on  the  enlargement  which 
has  set  Mile,  free  from  her  little  cage,  when  I  was 
the  wretched  prisoner  of  1880. 

I  should  think  you  would  feel  ten  thousand  miles 


TO  J.  R.  LOWELL  207 

away  from  Old  Cambridge  with  so  long  a  total 
change  of  ideas  and  habits.  But  you  have  had  a 
great  time  of  it;  and  don't  let  me  forget  to  say  that 
I  enjoyed  your  Fielding  L  speech  ever  so  much.  I 
hope  you  have  been  beruhrt  to  your  heart's  con 
tent.  I  am  much  pleased  that  you  should  recall 
me  pleasantly  in  No.  2  au  premier,  which  I  pre 
sume  was  my  room  (on  the  left  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs).  Yes,  I  am  much  pleased  when  you  have  had 
so  much  to  drive  me  out  of  your  head.  Well,  I  can 
assure  you,  you  are  not  forgotten  here  (in  your 
private  capacity  as  friend;  of  course  you  are  con 
stantly  before  us  as  a  public  man). 

You  once  wrote  as  if  your  (naturalized)  fellow 
citizens  here  might  owe  you  a  grudge,  but  I  never 
heard  a  word  tending  that  way  —  perhaps  you 
only  spoke  in  the  way  of  pleasantry. 

Since  you  left  Cambridge,  Time  has  sent  (how 
many)  say,  six  of  his  squadrons  to  attack  me  per 
sonally,  each  composed  of  365  members  aged  24 
each.  Don't  you  suppose  that  I  look  pretty  well 
battered?  They  tell  me  you  hold  your  own  most 
potentially.  You  have  my  approbation. 

Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Lowell,  and  thank  her  for 
her  kind  greeting  and  return  mine  of  the  most 

cordial  quality;  and  I  am 

Your  old  friend. 

P.S.  Hail!  my  Lord  Rector! 2 

1  Address  at  Taunton,  England,  September  4,  1883. 

2  Lowell  had  just  been  elected  Lord  Rector  of  the  University  of 
St.  Andrews,  Scotland. 


208  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

In  the  next  letter,  written  to  the  ten-year-old 
son  of  his  nephew,  Mr.  Holmes  revives  our  old 
friend,  the  sailor-man,  Goliath  Tittle;  and  assur 
edly  he  has  lost  none  of  his  drollery  during  the  in 
tervening  years. 

To  EDWARD  J.  HOLMES,  JR. 

December  2,  1883 

OFF  JEDDO,  JAPAN. 
MY  DEAR  NEDDY, — 

I  hain't  never  seen  you  but  then  I  knowed  your 
father  so  well  ever  since  he  was  Knee  high  to  a  toad 
that  its  all  the  same  and  I  haint  seen  him  for  a  good 
while  cos  what  little  Ive  ben  ashore  I  haint  skerce 
ever  had  store  cloaths  on  which  I  should  n't  want 
to  go  for  to  see  him  without  em  on  cos  hes  one  er 
them  that  likes  to  see  things  ship  shape  and  trig 
like  tho  he  aint  no  kind  of  a  man  neither  to  find 
fault  with  a  feller  if  he  aint  quite  up  to  Oak  Hall x 
and  the  fashnables.  Then  havin  been  tattooed  by 
two  three  different  lots  of  Kanakey  who  had  dif 
ferent  ways  er  doin  of  it,  makes  it  kind  er  awk 
ward  goin  inter  S'siety  as  they  call  it  Ef  I  shud 
tell  you  what  kind  er  offer  I  had  at  a  dime  museum 
in  New  York  it  ward  astonish  you 

I  should  like  to  have  you  tell  your  pa  that  Ive 
bin  thru  quite  a  number  of  xperences  since  I  see 
him,  er  navigatin  most  part  er  the  time  when  I 

1  Then  a  much  advertised  emporium  of  ready-made  clothing  in 
Boston. 


TO   EDWARD   J.   HOLMES,   JR.  209 

warnt  cast  ashore  or  on  a  raft  or  something  and  once 
pickt  up  swimmin  by  the  Seven  Sisters  brigantine 
in  Latitude  54  South  nigh  Crossbones  Island  which 
was  about  as  narrer  a  chance  as  Ive  hed,  onless 
among  the  Kenniballs  which  was  7th  July  1853  11 
oclock  in  the  mornin  sea  time  as  near  as  I  can  make 
it  when  I  knowd  the  hour  (I  wont  say  the  minnit) 
high  noon,  which  is  their  dinnertime,  allowin  alwys 
as  they  do  a  hour  for  roastin,  when  I  was  sure  to  be 
gone  up,  which  is  a  situation  pretty  hard  for  a  feller 
to  home  in  Boston  to  take  in.  for  a  feller  to  be  in 
such  fustrate  condition,  and  kinder  coaxed  and 
made  a  good  deal  of  and  fed  up  and  enjoyin  his- 
self  well  on  oranges  and  bananys  and  rice,  and 
sometimes  roast  pig  and  then  to  find  out  as  I  did 
that  mornin  what  it  was  all  for.  I  tell  you  a  feast 
dont  look  very  pleasant  when  a  fellers  a  goin  to  be 
the  pervisions  Lucky  for  me  they  almost  all  of  em 
got  down  in  the  little  holler-valley,  like,  where  the 
hot  springs  be  which  they  might  be  intendin  to  do 
some  bilin  by  way  of  variety.  I  was  tied  to  a  tree  no 
great  way  off  higher  up  and  a  tryen  as  I  might  be  to 
set  up  the  backstays  of  my  catechism  and  get  to 
gether  what  religion  I  remembered  and  there  come 
the  thunderationest  rumbling  and  roarin  that  ever 
I  did  heer  and  I  see  the  lot  of  em  down  below  kinder 
hove  up  like,  and  then  down  went  the  whole  kit 
on  em  and  there  wusnt  nothing  but  hot  water  for 
to  be  seen  where  they  was  a  minnit  afore  and  they 
was  biled  insted  er  me  Somewhat  they  was  left 


210  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

on  em  which  wasnt  many  untied  me  a  thinkin  that 
their  god  Chow  which  was  the  head  of  the  feast 
was  offended  with  them  or  partial  to  me  or  some- 
thin  and  after  that  they  treated  me  real  polite;  and 
I  come  away  in  the  Ben  Folger  which  see  my  signals 
and  some  on  em  cried  when  I  left  but  I  guess  it  was 
more  for  what  they  had  missed  than  any  fection 
for  me 

I  will  say  so  much  for  the  Kenniballs,  they  do 
know  how  to  lay  the  fat  on  a  feller  and  theyre 
pretty  civil  well  dispersitioned  sort  of  creeters  too 
only  for  the  way  they  have  of  eatin  their  friends 
for  a  windup.  If  it  wornt  for  that  theyre  better  be 
haved  than  some  of  our  folks. 

Well  I  should  spin  a  dredful  long  yarn  if  I  was  to 
tell  all  the  kind  er  fancy  times  Ive  had  since  I  see 
your  pa  such  as  bein  cast  ashore  in  the  Straits  of 
Magellan  and  nothin  but  a  hambone  which  I  drew 
by  lot  for  ten  days  which  I  eat  it  all  up  before  I 
had  done  with  it,  and  was  taken  off  by  the  Schooner 
Ann  Jane  Capten  Bulge  which  you  may  have  heern 
of  as  he  sed  he  had  relations  livin  in  Cambridge 
Port.  Ive  been  most  everywhere  and  seen  most 
everything  sea  sarpent  encluded  and  had  a  most 
everything  folks  has  in  the  way  of  voilent  com 
plaints  pertiklerly  kolery  plague  yeller  fever  and 
fever  and  ager,  but  Ive  a  notion  that  such  things 
kind  er  clear  off  er  fellers  constitution  for  Im  fust 
rate  now.  I  ris  250  easy  the  last  time  I  was  wayd 
and  stand  6  foot  2  which  my  brothers  is  all  small 


TO   EDWARD   J.   HOLMES,   JR.  211 

which  I  spose  was  becos  the  folks  put  tucks  into 
their  trousers  they  was  so  everlastin  afraid  they'd 
take  a  sudden  start  which  they  never  did  but  was 
uncommon  slow  growers  Now  they  never  put 
none  in  mine  and  I  didnt  find  no  difficulty  en 
growin.  Ive  been  married  quite  a  number  of  times 
but  it  was  agin  my  will,  amongst  the  natives,  for 
they  didnt  give  me  no  choice,  and  they  kind  er 
dopted  me  Do  ask  your  grandpa  the  Doctor  what 
he  thinks  of  Mrs.  Liddy  Pinkhams  Vegetable  Com 
pound.  Ive  bet  a  dollar  with  Solomon  Twister  2d 
mate  of  the  clipper  Thunder  and  Lightnin  that 
he'll  say  its  fust  rate.  Sol  sez  the  reglar  doctors 
dont  like  sich  things  cos  they  hurt  their  bizness. 
Her  picter  which  I  spose  must  be  a  good  likeness  is 
enough  for  me  she  looks  so  sensible  like  and  as  ef 
she  had  a  good  judgment.  Sol  takes  her  stuff  by 
way  of  pervention  he  ses  a  stitch  in  time  saves 
nine. 

Tell  your  pa  I  want  to  see  him  ever  so  much,  and 
I  hope  to  when  I  come  home.  Im  gittin  considble 
along  now  —  I  guess  I  shall  quit  the  seas  putty 
soon,  an  if  I  could  live  somewhere  near  your  pa  I 
guess  we  could  enjoy  considable  for  there  aint  no 
part  of  the  world  but  I  could  tell  him  about,  and 
then  take  you  on  my  knee  if  you  haint  got  too  old. 
And  perhaps  your  ma  wouldnt  mind  bearin  a 
hand  in  the  conversation  it  would  be  fust  rate  Ive 
changed  my  name  to  Little  and  when  folks  ask  if  I 
got  a  act  for  it  I  tell  em  the  act  was  passed  by  the 


212  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Legislator  of  Patagonya  for  it  was  down  there  I 

changed  it. 

Love  to  Father  Yours 

Sarvice  to  Mother  GOLIAH  LITTLE 

Sol  ses  your  grandpa  is  a  Homopath1  — You  ask 
your  father  to  ask  him  ef  he  is  —  if  youre  a  mind 
to,  and  tell  me  when  you  write  These  here  two 
little  dollars  is  made  outer  gold  I  digged  in  Cali- 
forny  Ive  salted  down  some  too  If  you  sh'd  care 
for  to  write  me  a  letter  please  to  send  it  to  Portland 
Oregon  I  xpect  to  be  there  in  about  two  months. 

To  DR.  C.  E.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  September  20,  1884. 

I  might  very  properly  have  written  to  you  be 
fore  this  time,  but  my  meagre  record  has  offered  me 
no  temptation  to  do  so. 

I  have,  wherever  I  have  been,  lived  in  the  very 
quietest  manner,  and  at  home  have  even  rather 
improved  in  that  respect  on  my  habits  abroad.  The 
chief  social  pleasure  here  now  is  for  the  returning 
fugitives  to  ask  and  tell  each  other  where  they  have 
been  and  what  they  have  been  about.  For  my  part, 
on  leaving  you  August  2nd,  I  stayed  at  Princeton 
until  August  16th,  then  was  at  home  to  August 
23rd,  then  at  Mattapoisett  a  week,  since  then 
have  been  a  fixed  fact  in  Cambridge  except  two 

1  A  playful  allusion  to  Dr.  O.  W.  Holmes's  vehement  denunciation 
of  homo3opathy. 


JOHN   HOLMES   AS   A    "FARMER" 


TO   DR.    C.   E.   WARE  213 

days  at  Brookline.  At  Princeton  I  was,  as  with 
you,  on  a  farm,  and  everything  went  on  so  well  un 
der  my  inspection,  that  if  I  had  stayed  long  enough 
I  stood  a  chance  to  be  chosen  President  of  the  local 
Agricultural  Society. 

It  may  be  well  for  me,  the  practical  farmer  (you 
know  in  the  old  field  at  home),  to  record  my  ap 
preciation  of  the  hospitality  of  both  the  amateur 
farmers  at  West  Rindge  and  Princeton. 

Why  cannot  you  send  me  a  little  account  of  your 
experiences  since  I  left  you.  I  love  to  read  your 
reports  on  the  farm;  with  the  information  about 
crops,  larches  and  chestnut  trees  (the  plantation)  — 
vagabond  and  predatory  insects  —  chickens  with 
dislocated  thighs,  who  arrive  in  the  world  only 
to  ask  for  surgical  aid,  demented  birds  that  lay 
their  eggs  on  rocks  in  the  pasture;  mosquitoes, 
whether  in  force  this  season  or  perhaps  discouraged 
by  the  weather  and  in  subdued  frame  of  mind,  or 
possibly  even  repentant;  that,  however,  is  hardly 
to  be  hoped,  the  mosquito  has  as  meagre  a  moral 
temperament  as  can  be  found,  and  therefore  makes 
a  terrible  combination  of  the  sanguinary  and  the 
frivolous. 

Do  write  me.  I  enjoy  the  picture  of  your  well- 
earned  repose  varied  with  just  exertion  enough  to 
give  it  a  flavor.  I  will  say,  too,  that  your  letters 
always  read  well.  Come  on  then !  Give  us  a  letter, 
a  historical  letter.  I  delight  in  Mary's  photograph, 
which  arrests  us  three  old  gents  in  our  pleasantest 


214  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

social  attitude.  My  love  to  her.  Give  my  kindest 
regards  to  Mrs.  W.  the  general  benefactress.  I 
should  like  to  see  her  make  one  holiday  exclusively 
for  the  benefit  of  the  wife  of  Dr.  W.,  but  it  would 
be  hardly  a  possibility.  Now  come  on!  All  that 
you  want  is  a  cent's  worth  of  paper  —  ditto  ink  — 
and  a  pen,  and  a  good-will  to  act,  resulting  from 
my  request  and  your  own  benevolence.  Come  on ! 

Yours  affectionately. 

Mr.  Holmes  sometimes  amused  himself  by  send 
ing  verses  to  his  correspondents.  The  following  is 
one  of  the  best  specimens. 

SITTING  FOR  YOUR  PHOTOGRAPH 

DEAR  DOCTOR  HAM, — 

I  hope  you  have  not  yet  said  — 
A  very  very  naughty  word 
And  sure  in  heaven  to  be  heard. 

I  bring  you,  to  admire  or  laugh 
The  long  long  promised  photograph. 
If  aught  extravagant  you  see, 
Credit  it  not  I  beg  to  me  — 
The  Photog,  sovereign  of  the  hour, 
Fashioned  my  looks  with  tyrant  power, 
Bade  me,  as  each  device  he  tried, 
Or  sweetly  smile  or  swell  with  pride. 
Now  think  of  martyrs  calm  and  pale, 
Now  of  Suwarrow  and  Ismail; 
Now  take  a  lively  aspect  on, 
Now  the  grave  look  of  Fenelon; 
Now  bade  me  think  of  bygone  sages, 
If  then  too  grave,  on  Dickens'  pages; 


TO   MISS    SARAH   PALFREY  215 

And  while  at  something  vague  I  aimed, 
Compound  of  all  that  he  had  named, 
Came  the  sharp  "  Now! "  and  petrified 
I  sat  until  he  drew  the  slide. 
What  wonder  then  that  now  you  see 
A  curious  anomaly. 

To  Miss  SARAH  PALFREY 

No.  5  APPIAN  WAY,  May  5,  1885. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  SARAH, — 

Please  not  to  impute  my  delay  in  reply  to  indif 
ference  ;  much  less  to  deliberate  neglect  of  your  note. 

But  I  really  could  not  muster  an  answer  at  once. 

Your  somewhat  abrupt,  and  in  its  nature,  start 
ling  announcement  of  the  suicide  committed  in 
your  presence,  perhaps  gave  me  some  tendency  to 
nervous  prostration.  I  was  flat  on  my  back,  as  the 
phrase  is,  for  quite  a  number  of  hours.  Yes,  during 
a  considerable  part  of  yesterday  and  today. 

Wednesday  afternoon.  Today  I  have  been  af 
flicted  with  epistolary  prostration  from  which  I  am 
just  now  rallying. 

Later.  I  have  just  found  out  what  makes  me  so 
very  slow  with  my  answer.  It  is  my  reluctance  to 
tell  you  that  I  can't  possibly  undertake  what  you 
would  have  me. 

If  you  want  a  regular  martyr,  the  real  historical 
thing,  and  will  get  the  consent  of  the  authorities, 
and  provide  stake  and  fuel,  I  don't  say  but  that  I 
will  serve,  and  even  bear  a  rateable  portion  of  the 
expense;  and  taking  it  as  the  alternative  to  the 


216  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

other  service,  I  think  you  would  hear  a  pretty  loud 
and  cheerful  Nunc  dimittis  from  out  of  the  combus 
tion.  You  shall  choose  what  I  am  to  be  Martyr 
for.  Call  it  Philanthropy  or  the  Cause  of  Educa 
tion  or  Woman  Suffrage  —  Just  what  you  please. 
I  shall  come  over  soon  to  see  you  about  it. 

I  love  Philanthropy;  but  better  when  she  takes 
her  constitutional  in  the  Common  than  when  she 
calls  on  business  at  No.  5  A.W.  I  love  Philan 
thropists,  and  am  far  from  owing  you  the  least 
grudge  that  you  demand  of  me  what  it  might  be 
very  meritorious  for  me  to  perform,  and  you  must 
bear  me  none  that  I  decline. 

Please  convey  my  respects  to  my  contemporary, 
your  Mother. 

With  much  regard, 

Yours. 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  13,  1885. 

I  am  happy  to  tell  you  that  I  arrived  safely  at  a 
little  before  10.  Mariana's  suggestion  of  the  tidal 
wave  weighed  somewhat  on  my  mind  when  I 
reached  Boston,  and  I  thought  it  prudent  to  con 
sult  a  sage  who  cultivates  weather  exclusively.  I 
told  him  I  had  a  moral  doubt  whether  I  ought  to  go 
by  West  Boston  Bridge  or  round  by  Charlestown. 
He  said  there  was  no  danger  before  12  o'clock.  If 
there  were,  said  he, "  I  should  not  be  here."  (He 
occupies  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the  back  part  of  the  old 


TO    DR.    C.   E.   WARE  217 

Toll  house.)  So  I  came  —  keeping  an  eye  out  to 
windward  however,  and  internally  estimating  the 
buoyancy  or  otherwise  of  my  valise,  from  which  I 
resolved  not  to  part  unless  strangulation  threat 
ened  or  Philanthropy  shrieked  a  shrill  demand  on 
my  exertions.  We  got  over  nicely  and  my  self- 
complacency  tells  me  there  might  have  been  a  con 
siderable  crowd  of  friends  at  the  end  of  the  bridge 
to  welcome  me  but  for  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 
This  is  my  simple  narrative.  .  .  . 

To  DR.  C.  E.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  15,  1885. 

My  foot  is  in  the  Stirrup  —  but  no  steed  belongs  to  me. 
The    expression's   therefore    figurative  —  as   you    must 

plainly  see. 

As  light  as  wheels  the  balanced  gate  upon  its  wonted  hinge, 
So  readily  I  turn  my  face  to  well-beloved  West  Rindge. 
I  shall  leave  behind  a  desert  —  't  is  sad  for  me  to  say, 
But  desolate  at  present  is  our  brilliant  Appian  Way. 
The  Annex  has  all  vanished  —  our  neighbors  too  have 

fled, 
In  pretended  cooler  shades  —  to  seek  rest  for  hand  and 

head; 
And  few  and  slow  the  steps  are  heard  —  of  patriots  who 

maintain 
That  to  leave  our  street  for  any  place  can  never  be  to  gain. 

Brother  Poet,  I  find  this  measure  rather  rough; 
let's  try  another. 

'T  was  thou,  infected  with  poetic  fire, 
Who  first  took  up  the  free  and  easy  lyre, 
And  wrote  me  pleasantly  and  all  at  ease, 
In  measure  we  may  call  "go  as  you  please." 


218  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

And  now  thou  seest  what  thy  example's  done: 
Behold  two  bards,  where  late  was  only  one. 
Now  I  too  know  what  means  "  poetic  strain," 
Nor  wilt  thou  catch  me  soon  at  this  again. 

Charles!  It's  delightful  to  be  on  good  solid  prose 
ground  again.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  climbed  with  toil 
and  peril  down  from  some  high  place. 

If  you,  Charles,  were  not  a  native  and  "free 
of  the  guild,"  I  would  send  you  "The  freedom  of 
the  city  in  a  box,"  which  last,  taken  by  itself, 
is  about  as  funny  a  sober  expression  as  you  will 
find,  considering  the  irrepressible  expansive  char 
acter  of  Freedom,  and  the  small  limits  proposed 
to  her. 

But  we  must  not  stop  to  moralize.  .  .  . 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  October  8,  1885. 

I  am  quite  dazzled  with  your  schedule  of  pears, 
and  anonymous  demi.  He  who  plays  on  words  —  a 
habit  to  be  avoided  —  might  say,  demi  if  I  ain't. 

Visions  of  bag  stuffing  arise  in  my  mind.  My 
bag  is  my  Aladdin's  carpet.  I  stuff  it,  and  get 
on  or  nearly  on  it,  and  presto,  I  find  myself  in 
Brookline  with  the  last  style  of  patriotic  cigar 
in  my  hand,  and  an  Aladdin's  jug  spontaneous  in 
coming,  and  nearly  the  same  in  exuding  at  my 
elbow. 

Parasangs!  You  are  right.  Twenty  parasangs 
meant  a  good  breakfast  on  mule  meat.  Five  para- 


TO   MISS   M.   L.   WARE  219 

sangs,  with  a  river  every  two  miles,  and  a  mountain 
the  third,  meant  a  half  pint  of  bran,  and  a  pint  of 
water  — 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  September  6,  1886. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MARY,  — 

(For  I  am  surely  entitled  to  use  this  diminutive 
to  one  whom  I  have  had  under  my  eye  ever  since 
she  chipped  the  shell,  speaking  as  an  old  agricul 
turist.) 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MARY, — 

I  am  ever  so  much  pleased  with  your  lively  letter 
received  today.  I  can  almost  hear  the  splash  in  the 
tub  of  Wat  in  the  last  purification,  and  I  take  an 
honest  pride  in  every  flea  that  rises  self-convicted 
to  the  surface.  He  has  been  the  unwilling  protector 
and  nurse  of  a  colony  whose  expulsion  gives  him  a 
well-earned  pleasure,  though  possibly  accompanied 
by  a  homesick  feeling  at  seeing  so  many  old  neigh 
bors  set  adrift. 

If  your  dog  knows  fleas  by  sight  (which  is  prob 
able)  he  must  have  experienced  deep  emotions 
(after  his  bath)  in  viewing  the  surface  of  the  water 
when  he  had  emerged.  To  see  so  many  old  tenants 
who  had  committed  perpetual  waste  and  in  fact 
drawn  salaries,  instead  of  paying  rent!  Wat  must 
have  looked  a  ray  or  two  more  cheerful  than 
usual.  I  think  his  general  expression  is  decidedly 
stoic. 


220  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Tuesday,  September  7th. 

I  have  to  go  to  Boston  and  wish  to  send  this  to 
day.  No,  I  will  keep  it  and  fill  it  up. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  you  doubt  about  directing 

your  letter I  have  promised  Waldo  to  return 

to  his  house  on  Thursday  of  this  week.  I  have  not 
cared  to  go  out  to  drive,  but  have  sat  on  the  piazza 
and  cultivated  my  mind.  We  had  some  reading 
aloud.  Mrs.  G.  and  a  young  man  by  name  J.  P. 
were  the  visitors  when  I  arrived  on  the  26th.  They 
went  on  Wednesday,  September  1st,  and  Miss  A.  H. 
came  the  same  day.  She  read  aloud  "Castle  Rack- 
rent"  the  first  evening  and  the  "Knapsack"  the 
second.  I  shall  trust  your  knowledge  of  juvenile 
literature  to  tell  you  whence  these  come.  So  you 
see  it  was  a  sort  of  relaxation  for  a  mind  that  had 
been  strained  to  such  a  degree  to  take  in  Lecky. 

Tuesday  afternoon. 

I  have  been  to  B and  on  returning  find  a  letter 

from  your  honored  papa.  Now  this  makes  a  com 
plication.  A  lively,  yes,  a  gay  letter  from  the  papa, 
who  is  naturally  in  high  spirits  because  he  has  got 
back  a  dollar  that  looked  quite  doubtful  (remind 
him  that  twenty-five  cents  remains  due).  It  is  an 
intensely  difficult  situation  — I  hardly  know  what 
to  do  —  I  have  a  strong  tendency  to  write  to  your 
papa,  across  you,  but  that  won't  do.  I  think  I  will 
leave  the  papa  and  answer  him  bye  and  bye,  but  it 
has  quite  upset  me.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the 


TO   MISS   M.   L.   WARE  221 

potatoes,  and  the  rye,  and  the  chestnuts,  but  I  must 
hold  off.  Now  we  will  begin  again  with  the  decks 
all  clear. 

I  expect  to  go  down  on  Thursday  to  Cohasset  and 
to  find  the  Misses  C.  whom  I  have  never  seen.  I 
hope  to  show  them  something  of  the  manners  of 
the  "gentleman  of  the  old  school"  such  as,  "Your 
servant,  young  madam,"  and  the  like. 

When  I  went  to  B yesterday  I  saw  the  labor 

procession  which  was  very  long  and  drew  a  great 
crowd  along  their  route.  We  shall  hear  this  eve 
ning  how  they  improved  their  holiday.  Today  I 
found  the  sidewalks  well  filled  near  the  newspaper 
offices — where  (especially  at  the  Herald)  (there 
were  telegrams  of  the  race,  Mayflower  so.  much 
ahead  at  11-J).1 

Cambridge  has  been  quite  a  desert,  bears  run 
ning  about  the  Common  and  panthers  watching 
for  the  Observatory  folks  in  case  they  should  come 
out  of  doors.  ...  I  shall  try  to  write  to  you  again 
before  you  come  down  and  give  you  a  better  narra 
tive,  if  I  find  there  is  material  to  improve  your 
mind  or  perhaps  to  rest  it  after  your  perusal  of 
Lecky. 

Affectionately. 

Wat  says: 

"Come  on  Dr.  Ware!  Come  on  if  you  please. 
If  you'll  furnish  water,  I'll  furnish  fleas." 

1  The  International  Yacht  Race  in  which  the  American  yacht 
Mayflower  beat  the  English  yacht  Galatea. 


222  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  MRS.  JOSEPH  G.  THORP 

March  4,  1887. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  THORP,  — 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  invitation  and  for 
your  pleasant  assertion  that  it  would  give  yourself 
and  Mr. Thorp  pleasure  to  receive  me;  but  I  fear 
you  are  mistaken.  I  am  not  the  least  of  a  dining- 
out  man. 

When  I  think  however  that  I  volunteered  to  act 
as  patrol  of  your  district,  the  old  stern  voice  of 
military  discipline  seems  to  say,  "They  are  calling 
in  the  outposts.  Obey  orders,"  —  and  under  such 
an  impulse  I  must  afford  to  disappoint  any  idea 
you  may  have  entertained  of  my  being  eligible  din 
ner  company. 

And  now  it  grieves  me  to  have  to  mingle  the  dis 
cordant  tone  of  rebuke  with  my  thanks.  It  is  very 
true  that  I  admitted  you  (auctoritatemihi  commissa) 
to  a  recognized  standing  as  of  the  genuine  Old 
Cambridge  stock.  I  had  no  idea  however  that  you 
would  think,  upon  such  title,  to  enroll  yourself 
among  the  "Old  inhabitants  of  Cambridge."  I 
must  tell  you  that  this  drew  from  me  the  invol 
untary  exclamation,  "The  little  whipper-snapper!" 
which  conveys  perhaps  sufficient  reproof.  I  may 
feel  obliged  to  report  you  to  our  "Sanhedrim"  — 
for  disrespect;  but  if  so,  shall  plead  your  youth; 
you  need  fear  nothing  too  harsh  from  them. 

I  may  not  have  told  you  that  I  am  a  veteran  of 


TO    MISS   M.    L.    WARE  223 

the  Harvard  Washington  Corps.1  I  mention  it  to 
account  for  my  military  tone  above. 

Notwithstanding  the  rebuke  which  my  duty  to 
my  "Order"  rendered  compulsory, 
I  subscribe  myself 

Your  grateful  respondent. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  17,  1887. 
MY  DEAR  MlSS, 

I  returned  from  Brookline  yesterday  afternoon 
and  found  on  my  table  a  piece  of  photographic  art 
which  I  at  once  attributed  to  you.  Two  of  the  fig 
ures  in  it  were  familiar  and  came  gratefully  back 
on  my  recollection.  The  third,  whose  expression 
indicated  that  he  had  recently  indulged  in  a  dose  of 
rough-on-rats,  or  something  of  that  sort,  attracted 
my  sympathy  but  failed  to  awake  recognition. 
Whoever  he  may  be,  methinks  he  would  have  done 
better  to  have  contented  himself  with  the  one  orig 
inal  copy  of  his  countenance. 

The  two  other  figures  are  rendered  very  success 
fully  indeed;  and  I  am  far  from  impeaching  the 
fidelity  of  the  first.  I  thank  you  much  for  your 
present.  I  should  advise  the  third  gentleman  to 
hold  a  rose  in  his  mouth  during  the  process.  (Here 
you  see  the  impression  of  that  countenance  rushes 
on  me  again.) 

1  A  frolicsome  organization  of  undergraduates  which  flourished 
when  Holmes  was  at  Harvard. 


224  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  28,  1888. 
MY  DEAR  MARY,  — 

It  would  be  presumption  in  a  young  inexperi 
enced  scribbler  to  suppose  you  in  an  urgent  hurry 
for  his  verses.  So  much  for  my  delay  in  sending 
them. 

How  have  you  and  your  mama  weathered  this 
prodigious  northeaster?  I  trust  well;  with  the 
mimic  Ocean  under  your  windows  you  have  been 
almost  at  sea.  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  had 
unconsciously  ejaculated,  "Belay!  Hard-a-port!" 
and  the  like.  The  storm  stood  on  no  ceremony 
here,  but  took  possession  of  Appian  Way  without 
a  "by  your  leave"  or  any  other  civility,  and 
waltzed  up  and  down  and  turned  somersaults  and 
ramped  about  with  a  demoniac  rapture.  You 
could  hear  his  wild  shriek  of  delight  when  a  hat 
sailed  off  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  an  umbrella 
blew  out  straight  and  became  all  outside  to  its 
owner  (should  n't  you  in  such  a  case  abandon  the 
umbrella  and  fly  with  all  speed  from  public  opin 
ion,  which  I  never  knew  to  have  any  mercy  on  a 
man,  at  least,  with  an  inside-out  umbrella).  The 
best  of  men  and  of  women  who  witness  such  a  ca 
tastrophe  are  transformed  into  a  "mild,  very  mild, 
species  of  demon.  You  ask  how  so?  Why  .'because 
they  laugh  at  what  is  for  the  moment  an  inexpressi 
ble  and  almost  unintelligible  calamity  to  a  fellow- 


TO    MISS   M.    L.   WARE  225 

being.  I  never  saw  a  person  in  such  a  situation 
whose  countenance  did  not  bear  a  truly  ghastly 
expression  of  grief  and  bewilderment.  My  dear 
Mary,  I  hope  that  your  umbrella  may  never,  never, 
turn  inside  out.  If  it  does,  let  me  counsel  you  not 
to  lose  a  second  in  staring  at  the  elongated  phe 
nomenon  in  your  hand.  It  is  that  second  when  the 
public  has  you.  No!  Toss  that  nightmare  type  of 
uselessness  contemptuously  into  the  gutter.  Abi  I 
Evade !  Rumpe !  Or,  go  it !  Cut  and  run ! .  .  . 

My  sense  of  economy  has  made  me  fill  up  my 
paper  as  you  see.  I  hope  my  advice  may  be  of  serv 
ice  to  you.  I  trust  it  will  not  be  oppressive.  Give 
my  kindest  regards  to  your  mama  and  allow  me  to 
sign  myself 

Very  cordially  your  old  friend. 

CLASS  DINNER 

Seven  weary  pilgrims,  old  and  gray, 
We  rest  upon  our  lengthening  way 
And  think  how  portly  first  began 
Our  now  so  dwindled  caravan. 

Again  the  funeral  bier  doth  cast 
Its  shadow  dark  on  our  repast; 
For  e'en  upon  our  festal  eve 
A  comrade  dear  hath  ta'en  his  leave. 

One  greeting  now  must  be  foreborne, 
One  more  warm  handgrip  now  is  gone; 
We  can  but  view  his  empty  chair 
And  try  to  think  we  see  him  there. 


226  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

And  so  with  all  we've  left  behind, 
Though  various  classmates  of  one  mind, 
We  summon  them  to  reappear; 
They  do !  Behold,  we  see  them  here. 

Hark!  Humphrey's  lusty  song  again, 
With  a  new  softness  in  the  strain. 
And  Hark  again!  the  vollied  laugh 
Subdued  and  lessened  to  its  half. 

And  as  we  say  't  is  '32, 

They  softly  vanish  from  our  view. 

No!  'T  is  no  longer  '32 

With  life  and  heart  and  all  things  new. 

Time's  iron  tongue  says  '88, 
The  sun  is  low,  't  is  getting  late, 
And  all  the  signs  do  now  portend 
The  coming  of  our  journey's  end. 

Then  cheerly  hail  the  mild  decay 
That  bodes  the  breaking  of  new  day; 
Or,  if  you  will,  the  fading  light 
That  tells  of  long  and  restful  night. 

(Fragment,  December  5, 1888) 
The  world  has  borne  something  of  a  Day  and 
Martin  hue,  without  the  admirable  shine  proceed 
ing  from  that  article. 

I  have  knocked  about,  however,  within  narrow 
limits  in  as  rowdy  a  manner  as  my  age  permits,  and 
have  tried  to  unite  a  juvenile  gaiety  with  senile 
toughness. 

The  Harvard  boys  were  mightily  tickled  with 
their  rare  victory  at  football. 


TO    C.   W.    STOREY  227 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

January  4,  1889. 

The  Christmas  time  I  have  had  "beggars  de 
scription."  In  thinking  of  this  phrase  I  have  some 
difficulty  in  seeing  how  "description"  could  really 
be  beggared,  unless  delineation  or  analysis,  or  some 
such  rival  activity,  should  really  fall  upon  him,  and 
with  or  without  unnecessary  violence  rob  him  of  all 
his  exaggerations,  aggravations,  tinsel  ornaments, 
in  fact  of  all  his  properties,  and  leave  him  nothing 
but  the  skeleton  Truth,  with  no  means  of  padding, 
etc.,  to  fit  it  for  the  public  gaze. 

It  must  be  a  Shakespeare  phrase,  I  think.  I  leave 
you  to  struggle  with  it.  It  is  very  handy,  anyhow 
—  "Beggars  description!"  Two  words,  and  all  is 
said,  and  somehow  a  very  impressive  impression 
left  on  the  mind. 

But  you  observe  that  almost  always  immediately 
after  announcing  descriptions,  beggary,  bankruptcy 
and  destitution,  even  to  a  want  of  decent  clothing, 
they  trot  him  out  and  make  him  show  his  paces  be 
fore  the  public  —  which  is  something  I  don't  quite 
understand.  I  said  that  the  time  I  have  had  beggars 
description.  I,  therefore,  shall  not  describe  it. 

Somehow  or  other  Christmas,  though  I  staid  in 
my  room  all  that  day,  does  n't  allow  you  any  rest, 
what  with  one  thing  and  another. 

I  feel  as  if  I  had  just  returned  from  a  tour  on  foot 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  hope  you  have  been 


228  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

well  and  have  enjoyed  at  least  average  Christmas 
happiness. 

The  world  as  I  see  it  about  me  appears  too  dis 
tracted  with  sendings  and  receivings  and  answer- 
ings  to  enjoy  any  peaceful  satisfaction.  It  seems 
a  time  of  mild  benevolent  delirium  in  which  people 
babble  of  cards  and  toys  as  our  friend  F.  did  of 
green  fields. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  15,  1889. 

I  can't  do  better  than  to  fulfill  my  promise  to 
write  while  you  are  yet  a  newcomer  in  Asheville. 
The  little  fishes  that  were  wont  to  swim  around  by 
Brimmer  Street  and  turn  an  eye  up  to  you  at  the 
window,  are  much  perplexed,  and  miss  you  a  great 
deal.  A  little  flounder  told  a  clam,  who  was  taken 
and  brought  to  our  fish  shop,  and  who  told  it  to  a 
canary  in  the  shop,  who  somehow  sent  word  of  it 
to  Miss  Tolman's  birds,  who  told  her,  who  told 
me,  that  he  was  real  "mis'ble."  "If  she  don't 
come  back  pretty  soon,"  he  said,  "I  am  goin'  to 
move  to  Chelsea.  I  did  want  to  see  the  Brookline 
Street  bridge  finished,  but  I  can't  stan'  it  here  no 
how  if  she  don't  come  back  to  the  winder  in  the 
course  of  another  week." 

So  you  see  that  when  a  nice  girl  like  yourself 
darts  off  to  foreign  parts,  she  hits  right  and  left  and 
downward.  I  want  you  to  send  your  kind  remem- 


TO   MISS  M.   L.   WARE  229 

brances  to  the  little  fish  and  I  will  get  them  to  him 
by  some  of  the  creatures. 

Of  course  if  this  little  fellow  feels  so  badly,  you 
must  have  left  behind  you  tribes  of  regretful  friends 
to  write  you  long  and  loving  letters. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  April  18,  1889. 

.  .  .  The  little  fish  that  I  told  you  of  continued  to 
droop  after  I  wrote  you  —  would  say  nothing  but 
"I  am  real  mis'ble" —  and  try  to  drown  himself 
by  jumping  out  of  the  water  on  to  a  stone,  but  an 
old  crab  (whom  I  perhaps  mentioned  before)  —  a 
friend  of  the  family  —  shoved  him  in  again  and 
made  him  promise  not  to  repeat  the  act.  The  poor 
little  fellow  said,  "I  won't,  but  I  am  real  mis'ble." 
There  was  a  North  Carolina  fish  got  carried  up  to 
Boston  lately  by  a  current  occasioned  by  storms. 
Some  of  his  relatives  or  friends  in  the  river  there, 
had  heard  of  you  through  a  trout  that  had  seen  you 
walking  by  his  brook,  and  had  heard  you  say  to 
yourself  out  loud,  "  I  shall  go  home  now  very  soon." 
The  stranger  fish  pitied  the  little  one  and  told  him 
of  this.  The  little  one  said,  "Jingo"  and  jumped 
three  inches  perpendicular  out  of  the  water,  and 
has  been  gay  as  a  lark  ever  since.  I  tell  you  all  this 
because  I  knew  you  felt  for  the  little  sentimental 
fish 

The  weather  is  very  moderate,  temperature  high 
for  the  date  —  but  of  course  there  is  the  old  east 


230  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

wind.  Temper  him  as  you  will,  he  is  always  the 
same  surly  old  fellow  —  rheumatic  and  cross. 

P.S.  You  are  not  obliged  to  read  these  outlying 
scraps,  they  are  only  meant  to  make  the  letter  look 
plump  and  hearty. 

"Though  far  and  wide  thou  stray, 
Forget  not  Boston  Bay." 

POPE. 

P.S.  Trite  reflection.  It  is  worth  going  away  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  coming  home.  It  is  worth 
staying  at  home  to  avoid  the  bother  of  going  away. 
(This  is  what  we  call  a  well-balanced  reflection.) 

"Remember  thy  friends 
Forget  thine  enemies 
Forget  NOT  thine  India  rubbers." 

LORD  BACON. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LAST  DAYS 

JOHN  HOLMES  was  now  an  old  man.  His  in 
firmities  increased,  especially  the  dimness  of  sight, 
which  at  last  prevented  him  from  reading  at  all, 
although  he  still  wrote  letters  'in  an  almost  unde 
cipherable  hand,  which  he  himself  could  not  see. 
He  still  crawled  out  of  an  evening,  when  lameness 
permitted,  and  called  on  near-by  friends.  A  little 
group  of  his  well-wishers  took  turns  in  reading  to 
him.  He  often  suffered  from  fits  of  depression,  as 
well  he  might,  but  his  native  buoyancy  would  re 
assert  itself  and  he  now  made  it  a  duty  to  appear 
cheerful,  even  when  his  spirits  were  low. 

His  affection  for  his  intimates  increased  and  with 
them  he  loved  to  keep  up,  so  far  as  possible,  his  old 
ways.  In  his  correspondence  with  Miss  Mary  L. 
Ware,  for  instance,  he  carried  on  the  whimsical 
story  of  the  Little  Fish  through  many  letters.  As 
long  as  he  went  out  he  paid  particular  attention  to 
the  children  and  grandchildren  of  persons  whom  he 
had  played  with  in  their  own  childhood.  He  usu 
ally  had  a  supply  of  new,  shiny  dimes  and  quarters 
which  he  distributed  among  the  little  people.  He 
told  droll  stories  and  made  them  feel  that  he  was 
one  of  them. 

But  besides  the  inevitable  decrepitude  which 


232  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

blights  old  age,  he  had  to  bear  the  loss  of  friends 
who  died  before  him.  Robert  Carter  was  the  first, 
followed  by  Henry  Ware,  Estes  Howe,  and  Waldo 
Higginson.  During  more  than  a  year  Lowell  was 
stricken  by  a  painful  illness,  the  nature  of  which 
was  not  generally  known,  and  after  delusive  rallies, 
he  died,  on  August  12, 1891.  By  dint  of  great  effort 
he  made  out  to  attend  one  more  meeting  of  the 
Whist  Club,  which  had  suspended  its  activity  for  a 
long  time  past.  After  his  death  John  Holmes  clung 
all  the  more  affectionately  to  the  two  or  three 
survivors. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  2,  1889. 
MY  DEAR  MARY, — 

I  believe  my  last  letter  (to  your  mama  and  you) 
had  the  merit  of  being  juvenile  enough  in  style  for 
anybody.  Tonight  I  shall  find  it  easy  to  assume  the 
gravity  of  age.  For  walking  in  the  procession  on 
Commencement  Day  tired  my  knee  a  little  and  I 
have  kept  in-doors  today.  This  is  enough  to  make 
an  "old  gent"  realize  the  emptiness  of  life  —  the 
vanity  of  human  wishes,  the  frailty  of  the  human 
structure,  and  anything  else  that  the  earnest  and 
melancholic  moralizer  should  suggest  for  his  ac 
ceptance.  To  all  his  solemn  propositions  I  should 
tonight  answer,  "Yea !  Verily ! "  in  a  tone  that  would 
vouch  my  sincerity. 

But  I  must  rouse  myself—  I  must  say  to  Despond- 


JOHN   HOLMES 


TO   MISS   M.   L.   WARE  233 

ency  and  Dreariness  —  who  have  made  me  a  visit 
today,  Come,  girls,  it  is  too  late  for  you  to  be  out  — 
go  home  to  your  cypress  grove!  and  tell  your  mama 
(old  Madame  Melancholy)  that  I  hope  she  will  al 
ways  be  as  happy  as  I  have  been  today. 

Wednesday,  July  3rd. 

I  wish  that  I  could  today  find  something  better 
than  my  experiences  to  talk  of.  So!  Let  us  see. 
There  is  Commencement  —  I  did  not  mean  to  go  to 
it  or  any  part  of  it,  but  going  to  see  Mr.  Boott  (that 
is  the  right  spelling,  is  it?  Yes,  I  have  looked  in  the 
College  Catalogue)  he  said  he  was  going  over  to 
old  Massachusetts  to  vote  for  Overseers  —  I  said 
I  would  go  too  —  and  once  over  there  —  in  contact 
with  all  the  circumstances  and  association  of  Com 
mencement,  I  determined  to  go  to  the  dinner  (hav 
ing  already  omitted  the  exercises,  so-called,  at' 
Memorial  Hall).  So  in  a  short  time  I  was  changed 
from  the  morose  hermit  into  quite  a  lively  old  gent, 
marching  to  military  music  as  if  I  had  been  a  sol 
dier  all  my  life.  I  found  myself  well  on  toward  the 
head  of  the  procession,  with  but  three  classmates, 
Dwight,  Dupee,  and  Gushing.  Almost  all  in  my 
neighborhood  were  either  scalped  (i.e.  bald)  or 
bleached  "white  unto  the  harvest."  The  young 
fellows  outside  the  procession  cheered  the  old  gents 
(and  young,  too,  I  suppose),  and  what  with  the 
music  and  all,  we  felt  like  Ulysses  and  Nestor  and 
other  well-advanced  old  Greek  gentlemen  return- 


234  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

ing  from  the  conquest  of  Troy.  The  only  object  of 
attack  before  us  was  the  dinner,  which  they  fell 
upon  with  glorious  aplomb.  And  I,  pretending  to 
two  meals  a  day,  was  carried  away  by  the  general 
enthusiasm  and  did  good  execution. 

We  did  not  get  very  near  the  middle  of  the  hall, 
so  that  when  the  speaking  came  there  was  a 
surprising  apathy  on  the  part  of  the  old  gents  — 
nothing  stirred  them  up  in  the  least.  But  being 
somewhat  deaf,  myself,  I  soon  saw  the  reason.  I 
applauded  occasionally  with  enthusiasm,  which  was 
so  much  the  more  to  the  honor  of  the  speaker,  as  it 
was  done  on  credit,  and  showed  my  confidence  in 
his  ability.  This  somewhat  relieved  the  aspect  of 
entire  indifference  which  prevailed  around  me.  The 
walk  was  a  little  too  long  for  me  and  is  the  cause  of 
my  staying  at  home  yesterday  and  today. 

Then  I  went  to  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  and  again  found 
myself  well  ahead  in  the  procession,  illustrating  the 
effect  of  Time,  which  had  thus  promoted  me.  Again 
military  music,  and  again  Age  putting  his  best  foot 
forward  and  winking  out  of  sight  the  obtrusive 
years.  I  escaped  all  the  walking  I  could.  I  found 
myself  in  the  procession  with  John  Dwight  and 
Waldo.  At  the  dinner  with  them  and  Colonel 
Harry  Lee,  so  that  I  had  a  very  nice  time  and  I 
was  able  to  applaud  more  intelligently  than  the 
day  before. 

I  tell  you  all  this  because  I  have  nothing  better, 
and  also  with  the  idea  that  when  one  is  a  little 


TO   MRS.   JOHN   G.    PALFREY  235 

remote,  if  I  may  so  term  it,  quantity  quite  competes 
with  quality. 

On  Class  Day  I  was  furnished  with  tickets  and 
went  at  eight  in  the  evening  to  Sanders  Theatre  to 
see  the  dancing,  but  soon  wearied  of  it,  went  into 
the  College  Yard  to  see  the  arrangements,  soon 
wearied  and  retired.  I  did  not  feel  gay  as  a  man, 
but  in  fine  feather  as  a  Philosopher,  ready  to  decry 
all  sorts  of  vain  amusements.  ...  All  the  folk  who 
are  going  to  stay  here  say  that  Cambridge  looks 
its  best  and  pity  the  exiles. 

Our  horse  cars,  as  you  have  heard  said  a  thousand 
times,  are  a  great  luxury  to  people  not  too  exact 
ing;  and  our  electric  cars  begin  to  bounce  along  in 
a  hilarious  way.  My  landlady  has  the  prettiest 
kitten,  perhaps,  in  Massachusetts;  amiable,  lively, 
intelligent.  She  has  found  out  that  I  am  writing 
to  you  and  says,  "Please,  sir,  tell  Miss  Ware  that  I 
am  quite  content  with  the  world  so  far  as  I  have 
seen  it,  and  glad  she  is  better  and  send  my  humble 
regards." 

Yours  truly. 

To  MRS.  JOHN  G.  PALFREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  February  5,  1890. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PALFREY,  — 

I  hope  to  appear  before  you  soon  with  my 
gloves  buttoned1  which  they  perhaps  never  yet 
were  (both  at  a  time) ;  or  if  ever,  —  phenomenally. 

1  Evidently  acknowledging  the  present  of  a  glove-buttoner. 


236  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

I  shall  hope  then  to  see  a  smile  of  benevolent 
self-satisfaction  on  your  countenance,  and  that  all 
of  us  present  shall  be,  as  the  phrase  is,  "visibly 
affected." 

I  shall  hope  also  to  have  the  pleasure  of  thanking 
you  for  your  useful  present,  and  for  a  youthful  feel 
ing  approaching  the  boyish,  which  I  have  in  thus 
learning  some  of  the  rudimentary  traits  of  social  life. 

And  I  subscribe  myself  somewhat  bashfully 
With  kindest  regards 

Your  Contemporary. 

To  J.  R.  LOWELL 

No.  5  APPIAN  WAY, 
April  7th,  1890. 

I  am  delighted  to  think  that  you  are  now  enjoy 
ing  some,  and  I  hope,  a  great  deal,  of  comfort. 
"The  Judge"  l  and  Wendell,  and  Charles  Storey 
have  reported  you  to  me  and  the  last  account  is  the 
best  one  —  that  you  are  downstairs,  and  at  home 
again  in  your  room,  with  all  your  authors  in  full 
conclave  about  you. 

Don't  wonder  that  you  have  not  seen  me  among 
the  gratulants.  I  am  congratulating  myself  in 
stead  of  you  and  hope  very  soon  to  come  up  and 
amuse  you  by  explaining  how  I  have  been  so  tied  to 
home  lately. 

So,  go  on  and  thrive  and  get  back  to  the  locus  (a) 
quo.  You  love  a  bit  of  Law  Latin  I  know.  It  is  a 

1  Judge  E.  R.  Hoar. 


TO   MISS   M.   L.   WARE  237 

favorite  part  of  the  Law  with  me.  There  seems  more 
and  heavier  law  in  the  same  amount  of  Latin  than 
of  English. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  Mabel,  who  I  hope  keeps 
you  company  in  getting  well. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

July  22,  1890. 
MY  DEAR  MARY,  — 

When  I  wrote  you  last  a  letter  with  but  very  lit 
tle  in  it,  I  was  expecting  to  improve  somewhat  on 
myself  in  another  letter  to  be  despatched  a  few 
days  after,  and  now  my  date  is  July  22nd.  I  can 
hardly  tell  myself  how  it  should  be  so,  unless  it  is 
that  old  gents  easily  find  insuperable  difficulties. 

I  have  been  through  the  usual  summer  course  of 
events  —  as  spectator,  not  actor.  I  have  seen  the 
little  Cambridge  gaieties  of  the  last  term,  and  have 
felt  in  a  feeble  degree  the  excitement  attending  the 
excitement  of  the  world  about  me,  but  generally 
have  maintained  a  gravity  proportionate  to  the 
hilarity  of  the  public.  I  have  been  to  time-honored 
Commencement  and  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  and  possi 
bly  have  relaxed  on  those  occasions  into  a  serious 
smile.  After  both  these  occasions  I  brought  home 
with  me  to  No.  5  Appian  Way  three  or  four  friends 
and  supplied  them  with  a  fluid  more  stimulating 
than  the  coffee  and  cold  tea  on  which  the  College 
feeds  its  young  at  these  times.  Wentworth  Hig- 
ginson  presided  at  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  and  very 


238  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

handsomely  —  bringing  the  house  down  with  his 
happy  allusions. 

Your  Uncle  Harry1  made  a  nice  speech  commem 
orating,  among  others,  one  of  my  classmates  whom 
he  knew  more  intimately  than  I  did.  I  did  not  go 
out  on  Class  Day,  but  it  was  a  great  occasion  for 
the  young  folks.  The  "spreads"  were  numerous 
and  the  whole  thing  was  multitudinous  and  musi 
cal,  eloquent,  saltatory,  sentimental  according  to 
the  moment  or  the  person  emergent  on  the  scene. 
I  looked  on  in  fancy  and  approved,  but  I  fear  did 
not  smile.  It  was  enough  for  a  philosopher  to  give 
his  approval. 

I  have  called  with  great  steadiness  on  Miss  L 
and  M,  and  now  and  then  on  Miss  C  and  A  (I  write 
the  one  Miss  for  the  two).  The  latter  have  become 
entirely  re-naturalized  in  Cambridge.  On  Sunday 
I  go  with  much  regularity  to  "meeting,"  though 
not  hearing  so  well  as  might  be.  ...  After  meeting 
I  usually  find  a  companion  for  a  short  walk,  Pro 
fessor  Torrey,2  say,  or  Professor  Thayer,  and  fre 
quently  moralize  on  the  quiet  and  order  of  the  day, 
and  that  in  a  land,  too,  where  Peace,  in  her  white 
gown  and  a  flower  in  her  bosom,  walks  at  large  un 
disturbed  by  war-like  drum  or  trumpet. 

My  landlady  has  cat  and  kittens  to  the  number 
of  five.  When  I  return  home  I  am  likely  to  review 

1  Colonel  Henry  Lee,  Harvard  A.B.  1836;  died  1898. 

2  Henry  Warren  Torrey,  Harvard  A.B.  1833,  Professor  Emeritus 
of  History  at  Harvard;  died  1893. 


TO   MISS   M.   L.    WARE  239 

this  family.  One  cat  is  an  Angora  and  she  has  a 
good  deal  of  sentiment.  She  has  heard  of  your  be 
ing  ill  and  she  said  to  me  the  other  day,  "  I  feel  real 
bad  about  Miss  Mary  and  I  wish  you  would  tell 
her  so.  But  you  tell  her  to  cheer  up,  I  was  real  sick 
myself  once  and  they  kept  telling  me  to  cheer  up, 
and  I  kept  cheering  up  and  at  last  all  of  a  sudding 
I  got  better  than  I  was  before  I  got  sick."  I  told 
her  I  would  send  her  message. 

I  have  got  into  such  a  contracted  old  gent  way  of 
life  that  going  to  Boston  is  an  event  with  me,  and  I 
can't  help  speaking  of  it  as  going  to  the  "Metro 
polis" —  and  —  on  the  whole,  don't  you  yourself 
think  it  is  more  proper?  It  is  no  small  excursion 
when  you  think  of  it.  It  includes  running  the 
gauntlet  through  all  sorts  of  difficulties.  The  other 
day  I  found  myself  between  an  electric  and  a  horse- 
car.  But  there  was  room  enough  for  existence.  I 
gave  the  most  searching  and  serious  look  I  was 
capable  of  at  the  conductor  of  the  electric,  as  if  to 
say,  "You  are  responsible."  He  was  evidently 
affected,  and  would  have  shed  tears  if  he  had  had 
time ;  and  I  came  out  comfortably.  I  go  to  comfort 
your  little  friend  the  fish  now  and  then,  but  it  is 
painful.  The  last  visit  I  made  him  was  near  your 
house  where  he  was  waiting  as  usual.  "Ain't  she 
coming  home?  When  is  she  coming  home?  Why 
don't  she  come  home?"  These  questions  all  in  a 
string  uttered  in  a  plaintive  tone  moved  me  very 
much.  I  told  him  you  were  better  and  would  be 


240  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

back  soon.  "Hoorar,"  he  said  in  his  small  voice, 
"I  will  swim  right  over  to  Chelsea  and  tell  Uncle 
Pollock,"  and  his  little  fins  twinkled  as  he  de 
parted. 

If  you  don't  decline  to  answer  this  tardy  letter, 
do  tell  me  what  you  would  like  best  to  have  me  tell 
you  about,  if  I  can  interest  or  please  with  any  of 
the  small  material  I  have  at  hand. 

Your  old  friend. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

September  2,  1890. 

I  have  been  to  see  your  little  friend  the  fish 
lately.  After  I  had  said  a  few  words  to  him  in  a 
fatherly  way,  he  broke  out  in  a  vivacious  tone, 
"Why,  you  seem  a  little  dumpish,  Mr.  Holmes!" 

"Where  did  you  get  that  word?"  said  I. 

"We  use  it  down  here  in  the  river.  Mrs.  Salmon 
uses  it,  —  and  she  says  it's  proper,  and  she's  a  good 
deal  of  a  lady.  You  ought  to  see  her  in  her  best 
dress!  She's  real  splendid." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "how  have  you  come  on  since  I 
saw  you?" 

"First-rate!  Splendid!  I  have  had  the  biggest 
time  this  summer  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  have  been 
to  all  the  fashionable  places,  over  to  South  Boston 
and  round  to  Chelsea,  and  once  I  followed  the 
steamboat  clear  down  to  Nantasket.  Ain't  it 
splendid  down  there?  And  it 's  so  fashionable  and 
gay !  I  almost  wanted  to  go  ashore,  but  Uncle  Had- 


TO    MISS   M.   L.   WARE  241 

dock  (he  went  with  me)  he  said,  'What  could  you 
do  ashore?'  And  he  laughed  so,  and  opened  his 
great  mouth  as  if  he  was  going  to  swallow  me,  and 
he  keeps  saying  every  now  and  then,  when  I  meet 
him,  'Don't  you  want  to  go  ashore?'  and  opens  his 
mouth  a  foot  wide  and  laughs." 

"Then  you  have  not  been  solitary,"  said  L 

"Solitary,"  said  he,  "I  guess  so  with  such  an 
everlasting  lot  of  relations  as  I  have  got.  Some  of 
them  pretty  hard  ones,  too.  There  is  Aunt  Eel, 
she  is  dreadful  fond  of  her  relations,  but  them  that 
goes  to  see  her  is  apt  to  be  pretty  slow  about  com 
ing  home  agin.  She  is  too  fond  of  'em  altogether, 
so  Uncle  Haddock  says.  He  ain't  afraid  of  her,  he 
is  so  big  —  But  —  "  and  he  started  suddenly, 
"how  is  Miss  Mary?  I  have  not  heard  from  her  for 
ever  so  long,  and  I  feel  real  down  about  it.  If  you 
write  do  tell  her  how  much  I  miss  her,  and  how  I 
want  her  to  come  back." 

So  you  see  your  little  friend  is  entirely  and  en 
thusiastically  loyal.  .  .  . 

I  went  to  Boston  on  Grand  Army  Day,  which  I 
suppose  you  know  about,  and  took  a  boat  and  was 
rowed  into  the  harbor  and  saw  the  warships.  Com 
ing  back  to  Washington  Street,  I  could  see  nothing 
for  the  crowd,  and  could  not  cross  the  street,  which 
was  roped  off.  And  there  I  was  cut  off  from  my  na 
tive  home  with  the  broad  Atlantic  rolling  behind 
me.  But  I  made  out  to  get  into  an  office  at  the 
corner,  and  saw  about  a  mile  of  New  York  soldiers, 


242  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

and  then  got  a  chance  to  cross  the  street,  and  come 
home. 

So  my  dear  child,  I  have  filled  up  two  pages  with 
airy  nothings.  I  do  hope  that  when  you  get  this 
long  letter,  even  though  it  should  be  dull  to  you, 
you  will  take  your  pen  and  tell  me  that  you  have 
got  ever  so  much  better  and  are  coming  home.  .  .  . 
Writing  a  letter  to  a  distant  friend  with  whom  you 
have  not  talked  for  a  good  while,  reminds  one  how 
much  of  the  sociability  of  everyday  life  is  made  up 
of  trivial  commonplaces,  which  are  vivified  by  the 
friendly  presence,  and  colored  by  the  lively  sug 
gestions  that  passing  circumstances  offer.  It  luck 
ily  occurs  to  me  just  as  I  am  lapsing  into  reflection, 
that  the  little  fish  said  he  had  constructed  two 
verses,  and  rather  bashfully  said  he  should  like  to 
have  Miss  Mary  see  them. 

"  Dear  Mary,  how  I  long 
Your  pleasant  face  to  greet 
And  see  you  well  and  strong, 
Come  back  to  Brimmer  Street. 

"  I'm  but  a  little  fish, 
And  little  do  I  know; 
But  this  it  is  I  wish, 
And  I  do  tell  you  so." 

He  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  them  —  whether 
they  were  good  poetry.  I  told  him  it  was  just  an 
honest  sentiment  on  wheels  so  as  to  run  easily  — 
but  that  he  mustn't  call  it  poetry  —  that  that 
word  had  been  abused  enough  already  without  his 
help.  "Well,  it  was  real  honest,"  said  he. 


TO   MRS.   J.    G.    PALFREY  243 

"Certainly,"  I  told  him,  "but  honesty  is  not 
poetry." 

"Would  you  not  like  to  write  some  poetry?"  said 
he.  "I  can  tell  you  lots  of  queer  things  about  lobsters 
and  crabs  and  them  eccentrical  kinds  of  fishes." 

"Why  no,"  I  said,  "if  I  should  write  poetry  I 
have  no  doubt  it  would  be  very  matter-of-fact  in 
character,  and  I  might  be  glad  of  your  Uncle  Lob 
ster's  anecdotes,  but  I  don't  care  to  go  into  it." 

Now,  Miss,  if  you  find  the  little  nonsense  I  have 
put  together  tedious,  don't  bother  yourself  with  it 
a  moment.  If  you  can  write  without  fatigue  I 
should  like  at  least  a  short  account  of  how  you  get 
on;  but  if  it  is  fatiguing  to  you,  I  would  be  content 
to  hear  about  you  from  your  mother,  and  so  I  sub 
scribe  myself 

Affectionately  your  old  friend. 

To  MRS.  J.  G.  PALFREY 

No.  5  APPIAN  WAY, 
Tuesday,  September  9,  1890. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PALFREY,  — 

You  will  be  interested  when  you  hear  that  your 
and  my  friend,  the  Owl,  who  has  occupied  some 
thing  like  a  judicial  position  on  my  mantelpiece  for 
some  years,  with  credit  to  himself  —  when  you 
hear,  I  say  that  he  met  with  a  severe  fall,  a  few  days 
since.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  his  ear  was  somewhat 
injured;  but  I  rejoice  to  tell  you  that  when  rein- 


244  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

stated,  he  resumed  (if  for  a  second  he  lost  it)  the 
aspect  of  profound  reflection  which  is  his  charac 
teristic. 

His  eye  is,  if  anything,  wider  open  than  before  — 
ready  to  catch  upon  its  surface  all  that  the  world 
offers  to  his  capacity  for  deep  study  and  severe 
analysis. 

I  think  that  the  pain  he  suffered  has  slightly  soft 
ened  his  expression  without  weakening  it. 

If  I  were  to  offer,  with  all  tenderness,  anything 
like  a  criticism  on  our  friend's  countenance,  I 
should  say,  that  the  bulge  of  the  eye  is  somewhat 
excessive  and  gives  a  suggestion  of  vague  curiosity, 
quite  at  variance  with  the  inward  concentration 
which  we  attribute  to  him. 

And,  as  extremes  meet,  we  must  admit  that  that 
full-orbed  gaze  of  his  might  suggest  to  the  careless 
observer  an  idea  of  vacancy,  totally  alien  to  his 
judicial  aspect  and  attitude,  and  contradictory  to 
his  title  as  the  bird  of  wisdom. 

All  this,  is  between  us.  We  know,  appreciate,  and 
revere  our  friend,  and  if  we  trifle  a  moment  about 
a  seeming  weakness  or  two,  it  is  only  to  recur  with  a 
warmer  zeal  to  his  great  merits. 

Let  us  rejoice  that  he  has  escaped  destruction, 
and  even  serious  dilapidation. 

A  week  last  Saturday  I  went  to  the  Metropolis, 
and  returning  was  tempted  to  walk  too  far,  and 
have  been  very  stationary  ever  since  but  am  get 
ting  well  again. 


TO   MRS.   J.    G.   PALFREY  245 

I  know  of  nothing  to  tell  you  in  our  part  of  the 
town  except  that  the  solitude  shows  some  signs  of 
disturbance.  Our  friends  are  approaching  and  the 
Indians  and  wolves  are  gradually  withdrawing. 

Hoping  that  you,  Madam,  and  all,  have  been 
well  since  my  pleasant  evening  with  you,  I  ask  the 
pleasure  of  signing  myself, 

Your  Friend,  and  your  partner  in  the  ideal  dance. 

To  MRS.  J.  G.  PALFREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  23,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PALFREY,  — 

I  feel  the  responsibility  of  writing  to  you  as  the 
representative  of  this  quarter  of  the  town,  very 
heavily.  I  shall  endeavor  to  divest  myself  of  sec 
tional  prejudices,  and  though  I  may  naturally  ele 
vate  the  character  of  the  Appian  Way  District,  I 
shall  be  careful  to  say  nothing  that  may  wound 
your  pride  in  your  very  Scientific  locality.1 

Perhaps  the  much-frequented  thoroughfare  on 
which  I  dwell  affords  a  better  study  of  human  na 
ture  —  a  more  enlarged  view  of  life  —  than  your 
sylvan  surroundings.  But  what  we  may  gain  in 
largeness  of  view  we  lose  in  the  diffusion  of  our 
ideas  over  a  larger  surface. 

(These  long  sentences  are  only  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  a  start.  They  will  serve  to  set  off  any  little 
liveliness  I  may  attempt  to  offer  as  a  contrast.) 

But  then  for  liveliness?  —  No.  5  A.  W.  does  not 

1  Mrs.  Palfrey  lived  near  the  Agassiz  Museum 


246  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

seem  exactly  the  place  to  apply  to,  for  such  an  arti 
cle.  It  is  true  that  I  have  had  one  organ-grinder 
today  —  He  ground  a  reasonable  quantity  of  mu 
sic,  but  he  cost  me  two  cents,  which  in  my  pres 
ent —  or  at  any  rate,  recent  —  economical  frame 
of  mind,  is  equivalent  to  twenty-four  hours  of  de 
pression,  or  at  least  of  diminished  vitality. 

I  do  not  follow  the  maxim  of  "Small  profits  and 
quick  returns"  but  of  small  profits  and  slow  re 
turns,  as  I  am  unfortunately  an  object  of  partiality 
to  the  ambulatory  artists. 

So  any  hope  that  I  offered  of  exhilaration  by 
force  of  animal  spirits  must  be  abandoned. 

I  fear  I  shall  have  to  resort  to  the  means  you 
yourself  have  afforded  me,  viz :  to  the  pleasant  recol 
lection  of  the  tea  party,  and  the  social  gathering  in 
your  chamber.  It  was  quite  an  event  in  my  re 
tired  life,  and  I  have  felt  since  quite  a  man  of  the 
world. 

I  went  yesterday  afternoon  to  Mr.  Lowell's  and 
found  him  in  bed  with  a  tardy  remainder  of  his 
gout  —  now  in  the  hand.  He  was  somewhat  better. 
Thence  I  went  to  Mr.  Hooper's 1  and  saw  some  of 
his  young  folks.  He  was  out.  He  made  me  a  very 
pleasant  call  on  Sunday,  and  I  think  this  was  the 
first  time  of  my  going  to  his  house.  You  know  he 
has  annexed  the  Gurney's  house  to  his  own.  I 
looked  into  the  room  where  they  used  to  sit. 

I  called  last  Thursday  at  Mr.  Waldo  Higginson's. 

1  Edward  W.  Hooper,  Treasurer  of  Harvard  College. 


TO  MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  247 

They  said  that  he  was  very  comfortable  but  that  he 
had  not  gained  in  strength. 

I  trust  that  our  party  was  not  too  much  for  you. 
I  hope  that  it  was  a  benefit. 

There  has  been  no  agitation  in  Appian  Way  that 
I  am  aware  of,  unless  a  momentary  disturbance  at 
No.  5  with  regard  to  the  exportation  of  dust-bar 
rels  to  the  sidewalk,  which  was  of  short  duration. 

I  shall  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
soon  and  of  finding  you  restored  to  the  parlor. 

With  kind  regards  to  all  my  entertainers,  and 
with  my  respects  to  yourself,  as  you  will  insist  that 
you  are  my  senior, 

I  am,  Dear  Madam, 

Yours  truly. 

i  To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

March  11,  1891. 

...  If  I  find  a  publisher  willing  to  set  forth  in  two 
small  duodecimos  a  work  entitled  "A  Journey  from 
Chestnut  to  Tremont  Street,  in  the  Metropolis  of 
Massachusetts,  with  remarks  upon  the  Manners 
and  Customs  of  the  Natives,  and  upon  its  public 
monuments,  particularly  the  Statue  of  Governor 
John  Winthrop  in  Scollay  Square,  —  together  with 
meteorological  observations  collected  during  the 
transit,  which  will  include  accurate  measurements 
of  the  depth  of  mud,  made  by  the  author  himself, 
as  well  as  of  the  various  acclivities  and  declivities, 
with  a  fine  steel  (conjectural)  portrait  of  Christopher 


248  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Columbus,  the  renowned  Discoverer  of  America" 
—  I  say,  if  I  find  a  publisher  for  the  proposed  work, 
you  shall  receive  the  earliest  copy. 

I  dispense  therefore  with  any  attempt  at  present 
to  inform  you  of  my  labors  and  sufferings  (not  to 
speak  of  perils)  during  this  long  and  zigzag  wan 
dering. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  got  tired  and  once  seated 
myself  upon  about  two  inches  of  projection  at  the 
foot  of  a  column,  and  with  my  stick  advanced  as  a 
prop  appeared  to  gaze  in  at  the  lace-curtained  win 
dows  opposite.  I  rested  at  S.  S.  Pierce's  and  then 
attempted  a  negative  sort  of  adornment  of  my  per 
son  by  going  to  the  hair-cutter.  Thence  to  Temple 
Street,  where  I  had  again  to  rest  as  I  waited  — 
this  time  with  my  foot  on  a  doorstep  and  the  cane 
acting  again  as  a  prop.  Thence  I  went  by  Garden 
Street  car  to  J.  R.  L.'s  and  found  him  down  stairs 
and  quite  free  from  pain. 

When  I  got  home  at  about  6  you  will  be  pleased 
as  a  friend  to  know  that  I  had  an  appetite  such  as 
we  see  attributed  to  ship-wrecked  mariners  and 
Arctic  voyagers,  having  fasted  since  9  A.M.  (I  shall 
put  this  into  the  book.) 

On  Sunday  I  went  to  meeting  and  sat  in  my 
(half)  pew.  Professor  Torrey  was  not  there.  Mr. 
Dixwell 1  took  my  arm  after  meeting,  and  it  is  not 
for  me  to  decide  which  was  the  column  and  which 
(I  am  forced  to  use  the  language  of  poetry  most 

»  Epes  Sargent  Dixwell,  1807-1899;  Harvard  A.B.  1827. 


TO   WALDO   HIGGINSON  249 

unwillingly  and  unaptly)  and  which  the  vine,  but  if 
there  had  been  a  slip  we  should  have  fallen  in  one 
common  ruin. 

To  WALDO  HIGGINSON 

[March,  1891?]. 

...  I  suppose  that  a  person  involved  like  both 
of  you  in  an  enterprise  demanding  much  calculation 
is  seldom  interrupted  in  his  computation  by  an 
intrusive  sentence  from  the  last  Sunday's  sermon. 
This  is  merely  philosophical  reflection.  I  have  n't 
the  least  idea  of  a  "slant"  at  you  or  Mr.  Bates. 

James  Lowell  has  had  a  hard  time  lately  with  a 
furious  fit  of  gout  —  has  had  a  great  deal  of  severe 
pain,  and  his  left  hand  became  so  weak  that  I  think 
he  could  not  hold  his  pipe  with  it.  He  has  got  much 
better  and  has  had  the  Whist  Club  twice  at  his 
house  —  not  venturing  out  in  the  evening.  Charles 
Storey  lately,  in  a  note  to  me,  alluded  to  James  and 
his  confinement  for  a  time  to  his  bed  and  said, 
"What  pleasant  reflections  he  must  have!"  —  a 
remark  which  I  think  applies  well  to  a  friend  of  ours 
who  has  a  large  interest  in  the  Cambridge  Divinity 
School.1 

What  can  I  tell  you  about  our  Old  Cambridge 
that  can  possibly  please  you.  Old  Cambridge!  now 
debauched  with  numbers  —  wealth  —  an  intellec 
tual  furor  that  allows  the  mind  no  rest  —  and  a 

1  Mr.  Higginson  was  a  member  of  the  Harvard  Overseers  Com 
mittee  to  visit  the  Divinity  School. 


250  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

rage  for  amusements  that  allows  none  to  the  body. 
"The  Market  Place,"  or  "Down  in  Town"  be 
come  "The  Square,"  "Willards,"  the  "Car  Office," 
the  Court  House,  "The  Lyceum."  What  can  I  do 
better  than  transport  you  for  a  moment  back  to  the 
calm  and  the  complete  homeness  of  1820,  by  a  few 
extracts  from  private  memoranda  of  the  time. 

(MR.  WHIPPLE.)  "Mem.  Owe  Deacon  Brown 
36  cts.  for  1  doz.  Havana  cigars.  Mem.  My  fee  in 
Munroe  vs.  Hunnewell  for  breach  of  fence  by  cow, 
$1 .50.  Have  been  reading  Cooper's '  Bravo  of  Ven 
ice,' —  a  great  book.  Mem.  Due  Willard  25  cts." 

(DEACON  MUNROE.)  "Mem.  Prof.  Farrar.  One 
week's  work  repairing  chaise,  $6." 

(SQUIRE  WINTHROP.)  "Yesterday  passed  a  very 
pleasant  Independence  Day.  After  breakfast  to 
Brown's  shop  and  bo't  a  good  supply  of  lemons  and 
had  a  [illegible]  punch  made.  Mr.  Craigie  came  to 
dinner  and  in  the  afternoon  we  sat  out  on  my  front 
yard,  and  enjoyed  the  view  of  the  River  and  of  the 
College  Sloop  just  coming  up  from  Kennebec. 
Craigie  very  sanguine  about  his  Lechmere's  Point 
plan.  I  tell  him  he'd  better  sit  out  in  his  porch  and 
drink  punch  (which  is  one  of  the  healthiest  liquors 
in  the  world)  —  told  him  if  he  did  n't  succeed  he'd 
be  a  poor  debtor  and  have  to  stay  at  home  all  but 
Sundays.  Mem.  Walked  this  morning  to  Brighton 
Bridge,  found  a  number  of  boys  fishing.  They  had 
taken  several  of  one  to  two  pounds.  Will  go  down 
and  try  it  myself  some  morning.  Coming  back  met 


TO   MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  251 

Gibson  and  Gordon  each  with  a  jug  of  rum.  They 
were  going  down  the  river  in  Stedman's  boat  afish- 
ing.  Gordon  told  of  5  sea  perch  that  he  caught  one 
morning  from  Brighton  Bridge  that  weighed  twenty 
pounds,  but  he'd  been  drinking  —  two  pounds  is 
good  weight." 

Fearing  that  I  am  tedious  and  hoping  to  see  you 
soon, 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  April  15,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  ANNA,  — 

I  have  been  very  inactive  for  nearly  a  week  — 
have  been  in  the  house  the  greater  part  —  almost 
all  the  time,  and  have  not  risen  to  the  level  of  a 
Correspondent. 

A  certain  well-known  dramatist  says,  "There  is 
a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,"  and  if  that  is  the  case, 
there  must  be  low  tide  sometimes,  and  I  suppose  it 
must  have  been  low  tide  with  me. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  record  public  events.  The 
newspaper  thrusts  everything  discoverable  upon  its 
readers.  The  only  important  event  in  domestic  life 
has  been  the  disappearance  of  Captain  Tom  Gray — 
a  feline  gentleman  much  valued  by  the  household, 
though  prevailingly  of  an  outdoor  habit  of  life. 

The  Cat's  Chronicle  and  Back  Yard  Advertiser  has 
not  as  yet  made  any  mention  of  his  disappearance, 
being  doubtless  unwilling  to  shock  the  public  while 


252  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

any  spark  of  hope  remains.  But  in  this  house  he  is 
given  up  and  I  feel  a  certain  pleasure  in  thinking 
that  a  brief  notice  of  him  sent  to  you  will  intro 
duce  his  character  (all  that  is  left  of  him)  to  the 
Metropolis. 

Captain  Tom  was  generously  built  by  Nature, 
with  an  aspect  corresponding  to  his  frame.  It  was 
bold  without  insolence,  with  a  noble  frankness  of 
expression  which  was  as  good  as  a  free  ticket  of  ad 
mission  to  the  public  heart.  His  look  alone  was  a 
chapter  of  life  philosophy  that  cheered  and  strength 
ened  all  its  readers. 

I  knew  him  first  during  an  interval  when  he  was 
left  by  the  family  in  the  next  house,  and  had  as  yet 
acquired  no  other  domicile  —  I  was  not  aware  of 
this  but  used  to  see  him  sitting  on  the  piazza  at 
No.  5  with  the  air  as  I  now  interpret  it  of  a  noble 
exile.  I  made  some  friendly  advances  to  him  which 
he  seemed  disposed  to  accept,  although  common 
prudence  forbade  him  to  let  me  approach  very 
closely.  He  seemed  to  say,  "Sir,  had  I  such  secur 
ity  as  I  ought  to  demand  from  mankind,  I  would 
gladly  accept  your  friendship." 

But  I  must  not  linger  with  my  recollections. 
Captain  Tom  had  a  regular  and  capacious  appe 
tite,  index  of  a  healthy  expansive  spirit. 

He  had  a  hearty  appreciation  of  the  more  solid 
blessings  of  life  but  was  far  from  an  epicurean. 
"Give  me  but  enough,"  he  would  say.  "The  most 
fatal  fault  in  diet  is  insufficiency." 


TO    MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  253 

He  was  in  favor  of  woman  suffrage — "  For,"  said 
he,  "who  are  our  friends,  the  friends  of  our  race. 
Who  feeds  us  but  woman? "  —  "I  tell  you,"  he  once 
said  to  a  friend;  "take  an  average  ton  of  men  and 
the  same  of  women,  and  weigh  their  sense  and  their 
goodness,  all  the  good  qualities  in  a  pile,  and  don't 
you  believe  the  women  would  beat  more  than  half 
the  time?" 

He  was  a  strong  advocate  of  home  happiness  and 
a  foe  to  all  that  should  supplant  or  even  rival  it. 
"A  fellow,"  he  would  say,  "should  stick  to  his  own 
premises.  There's  where  he  ought  to  find  his  hap 
piness,  among  his  own  family  and  friends.  I  never 
knew  a  cat  that  went  abroad  a  good  deal  but  what 
came  to  mischief  sometime  or  other.  No,  Sir,  a  cat 
ought  to  stick  to  his  own  barn  or  cellar  (or  parlor, 
if  he's  a  parlor  cat)  and  his  own  back  yard." 

"The  world,"  he  said  once,  "is  just  as  good  as 
crazy  now  with  their  clubs  and  societies  and  recep 
tions  and  all  lecturing  each  other  to  death.  How 
many  folks  do  you  suppose  you  '11  find  at  home  now 
of  an  evening?  Cambridge  was  a  sensible  place  in 
1820,  according  to  what  my  grandfather  told  me, 
and  he  always  used  to  say  to  me,  'Tom!  Stay  at 
home  when  you  have  a  home ! ' ' 

My  dear  Miss  Anna,  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my 
dwelling  so  much  on  ("the  late,"  I  fear)  Capt.  Tom 
Gray.  There  is  no  small  news  current  here  just  now. 
There  was  a  slight  temporary  excitement  a  little 
while  ago  over  the  dust-barrels  that  are  set  in  the 


254  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

street,  but  it  soon  subsided  and  matters  were 
peacefully  arranged.  There  has  been  a  little  talk 
about  arsenical  paper  and  one  citizen  is  having  his 
walls  denuded  —  but  then  there  are  so  many  ways 
of  getting  a  stomachache  without  arsenic,  that  one 
is  doubtful.  I  must  close  my  letter  having  told  you 
all,  and  I  am 

Very  truly  and  cordially 

Your  old  friend. 
Love  to  Waldo 

To  WALDO  HIGGINSON 

April  16,  1891. 

.  .  .  How  Mr.  Ames  must  miss  your  attentive 
serious  face,  for  even  if  your  mind  wandered  for  a 
moment  to  the  subject  of  the  Cohasset  waterworks, 
you  would  seem  devoted  to  the  sermon.  When  a 
man  is  good,  "all  through,"  Satan  may  divert  his 
attention  with  secularities,  but  cannot  rob  him  of 
his  solemn  and  saintly  demeanor. 

I  suppose*  your  friend  Mr.  Bates  occasionally 
finds  himself  saying  "7J  per  cent,"  instead  of 
"Amen,"  to  some  impressive  truth  that  his  minis 
ter  utters. 

To  WALDO  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  6,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  WALDO,  — 

I  am  happy  now  to  have  something  to  write  you 
of  stirring  interest.  Last  Saturday  I  set  out  for  the 


TO   WALDO   HIGGINSON  255 

alternative  objective  points,  the  North  Pole,  or 
Alaska. 

A  sudden  spirit  of  enterprise  took  possession  of 
me.  I  longed  to  force  my  way  to  one  of  these  two 
distant  points.  I  said  to  myself,  energy  to  set  off 
and  perseverance  to  continue  are  the  two  things 
wanted.  I  hardly  consented  to  count  in  as  a  third 
the  small  bag,  whose  scanty  contents  were  to  stim 
ulate  my  self-reliance,  and  develop  my  energies.  I 
bade  a  brief  but  kindly  adieu  to  the  country  about 
the  Appian  Way  and  in  a  moment  found  myself 
on  the  world's  broad  highway.  The  reflections  of  a 
traveller  on  such  a  scale  as  mine,  at  setting  out,  are 
usually  superseded  or  obliterated  by  the  hard  ex 
perience  of  after  travel.  I  therefore  briefly  record 
my  own,  while  they  are  yet  fresh. 

First,  I  expanded  with  the  feeling  that  I  was  no 
longer  a  dweller  in  Appian  Way,  but  a  cosmopolite. 
I  no  longer  dealt  with  states,  districts,  cities  and 
towns.  Meridians  of  latitude  and  longitude  were 
now  my  measures.  My  powers  of  observation  and 
comparison  were  awakened.  I  viewed  with  a  careful 
eye  the  trees,  the  herbage,  the  weeds,  even  the 
stratification  of  rocks;  nothing  was  too  great  or 
too  small  for  my  attempts  at  analysis.  I  even 
thought  before  I  arrived  at  Watertown1  that  I  dis 
cerned  a  shade  of  change  in  the  material  productions 
of  Nature,  and  even  in  the  form,  features,  and  car 
riage  of  men.  This  it  is  (I  said  to  myself)  to  travel ! 

1  Three  miles  distant  from  Cambridge. 


256  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

The  ardor  for  discovery,  for  knowledge  upon  a 
world  scale,  remoulds  the  man.  It  was  not  until  I 
arrived  at  Newton  that  the  immensity  of  my  plan 
seemed  to  break  upon  me,  and  as  the  chilly  breeze 
swept  through  the  open  door,  I  became  aware  of  the 
rude  opposition  I  must  encounter  toward  the  Pole, 
or  even  before  I  reached  Alaska,  if  that  should  be 
my  course;  but  my  ardor  soon  revived,  and  my 
mind  being  now  chilled  down  to  proper  degree,  I 
formed  between  Newton  and  Newtonville  a  glacial 
theory  which  I  trust  you  will  some  time  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  approving. 

Arrived  at  Newtonville  at  my  nephew's,  social 
blandishments  stole  unawares  upon  my  mind  and 
relaxed  the  intensity  of  its  tone.  Social  comfort  and 
hilarity  acted  as  a  positive  bane  upon  one  strung  up 
to  highest  pitch  of  enterprise.  Perhaps  I  had  done 
better  to  withhold  my  purpose  from  them.  Their 
solicitude  for  my  safety  impaired  my  confidence  in 
myself.  When  I  was  cautioned  about  descending 
the  stairs,  or  led  with  filial  attention  down  the  steps, 
what,  said  I  to  myself,  shall  I  do  among  glaciers, 
gulfs,  chasms?  If  the  stairs  require  the  prudence  of 
two  people,  what  will  one  alone  do  upon  the  awful 
steeps  of  the  Ural? 

Thus  repelled  and  discouraged  from  adventure, 
and  at  the  same  time  enticed  towards  the  comforts 
of  social  life  —  I  finally,  after  a  severe  struggle,  con 
cluded  to  go  no  farther  at  present  toward  the  North 
Pole  than  Newtonville.  It  is  a  great  thing  though 


TO   WALDO   HIGGINSON  257 

to  have  been  en  route  for  the  N.  P.  I  am  now  en 
titled  to  say,  —  as  preface  to  narrative  discourse, 
—  Some  time  since,  when  I  was  on  my  way  to  the 
N.  P.  or  Alaska. 

I  returned  from  my  expedition  to  the  N.  P.  on 
Tuesday  afternoon.  I  have  quite  recovered  from 
my  excitement  except  that  I  have  a  hard  time  in 
my  sleep.  What  with  being  tossed  by  the  wild  bulls 
of  northern  regions  —  coming  down  long  moun 
tains  garnished  with  precipices,  "by  the  run,"  as 
we  say,  I  have  by  day  a  sense  of  general  contusion 
that  is  quite  painful. 

Pardon  this  tedious  letter,  my  dear  Waldo  —  it 
is  written  for  your  good,  and,  if  tedious,  let  it  act 
as  polisher  to  your  patience.  We  must  make  the 
best  use  we  can  of  all  our  means. 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  WALDO  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE, 

Wednesday,  June  3d,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  WALDO,  — 

There  is  with  the  invalid  a  contest  between  the 
physical  and  moral  being,  and  a  friend  who  cannot 
help  the  one  feels  urged  to  offer  his  aid  to  the  other. 

I  don't  know  the  man  with  whom  I  should  feel 
less  of  awkwardness  than  with  you  in  setting  forth 
those  moral  aids  which  the  invalid  is  in  a  measure 
disabled  to  apply  to  himself. 

Only  to  state  your  advantages  as  an  invalid 


258  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

would  seem  enough  to  make  your  spiritual  being 
arise  to  cheerful  and  athletic  encouragement  of  its 
oppressed  fellow-worker. 

A  character  approved,  a  being  beloved  by  so 
many.  This  is  enough  without  recalling  the  more 
immediate  consolations  that  surround  you. 

I  may  recall  to  mind  your  serene  patience.  I 
wish  to  avoid  all  difficulty  with  regard  to  self-ad 
miration;  I  therefore  ask  as  a  favor  that  you  will 
allow  your  spiritual  being  to  take  a  view  of  itself 
and  bestow  an  innocent  smile  of  approval. 

Happy  man  to  whom  we  can  say  such  things! 

Yours  affectionately. 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  14,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES,  — 

I  ought  to  have  written  you  about  James,1  but 
have  found  him  from  time  to  time  in  so  much  the 
same  condition  that  I  forgot  my  duty  to  his  friend, 
at  a  distance  from  him. 

I  called  on  him  with  J.  B.  last  Saturday  and  found 
him  with  the  sciatica  still  in  possession  —  and  he 
said  that  his  voice  had  failed  him  the  day  before  — 
but  it  was  fairly  audible  while  we  were  there.  His 
look  —  his  aspect — was  I  thought  quite  good  and 
natural. 

But  alas,  I  got  a  note  from  J.  B.  this  evening  to 
this  effect:  — 

»  J.  Lowell. 


TO   MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  259 

"...  Kindly  send  me  your  address,  Newbury- 
port,  that  I  may  send  you  frequent  bulletins  of  Mr. 
Lowell.  He  had  a  severe  attack  this  morning  —  has 
been  under  the  influence  of  opium  all  day." 

Doctor  Walcott  pronounces  his  case  as  "  critical" ! 
This,  though  we  will  hope  the  best,  is  sad  news  for 
us  all. 

I  shall  let  you  hear  on  Thursday  whatever  there 
is  to  tell  to  one  so  much  interested  as  you. 

To  Miss  GRACE  NORTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  18,  1891. 

My  messenger  reports,  — 

"Condition  much  as  yesterday.  He  had  a  very 
poor  night." 

James  has  been  having  sciatica  all  along,  but 
this  new  attack  of  pain  is,  I  believe  attributed  to 
the  liver.  "Enlargement  of  the  liver"  is  the  term 
used  by  the  doctor  I  hear. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  4,  1891. 

...  I  have  been,  for  me,  so  tempestuously  tossed 
about  in  the  world  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin 
anything  like  narrative  to  you.  The  Merrimack  ex 
pedition  seems  to  stand  first,  so,  if  you  say,  we  will 
have  at  it. 

It  was  on  a  fine  summer  day  that  a  man  some 
what  beyond  middle  age  stood  at  the  gate  of  an  un 
pretentious  edifice  in  the  well-known  Appian  Way. 


260  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

The  golden  rod  by  the  margin  of  the  quaint 
street  was  rioting  in  his  brightest  colors,  while  the 
succory  with  its  pale  blue  eye  seemed  to  gaze  with 
modest  interest  on  the  person  who,  by  the  capa 
cious  valise  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  was  evi 
dently  on  the  point  of  launching  into  itinerary  ad 
venture.  How  do  you  like  that?  or  do  you  prefer 
this? 

On  Saturday  July  18,  —  valise  in  hand,  I  walked 
to  the  "Square"  (formerly  "down  in  town"),  I 
boarded  methinks  an  Electric  and  proceeded  to  the 
metropolis.  Took  a  cab  at  or  near  the  Revere,  and 
to  Eastern  R.R.  station  —  a  squalid  station!  Feel 
ing  a  suggestion  of  hunger,  I  mounted  on  one  of  the 
high  stools  in  front  of  the  culinary  counter  and  de 
manded  soup.  The  soup  here,  i.e.  at  the  station,  I 
take  it  is  perennial,  that  is,  refreshed  with  new 
supplies  of  solid,  and  always  doing.  It  inclined  to 
tasteless  —  probably  a  part  of  its  solid  element  was 
immersed  in  January  or  thereabout.  But  there  was 
plenty  of  heat.  If  I  had  been  in  any  hurry  I  should 
have  had  to  leave  it,  either  to  refresh  some  of  the 
waiters  or  to  be  plunged  into  the  common  stock. 
Dr.  Johnson  might  have  said  of  it:  "The  soup  was 
below  any  measure  I  possess  of  demerit.  I  ap 
proached  it  with  misgiving  and  left  it  with  disgust. 
The  coffee,  uncontaminated  by  its  fellowship  with 
the  soup,  might  have  been  tolerated,  but  the  heat 
of  both  was  such  as  to  add  physical  pain  to  the 
pangs  of  unsatisfied  hunger." 


TO   MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  261 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

August  26,  1891. 

...  I  have  been  disarranged  and  tossed  on  huge 
billows  of  circumstance,  the  smallest  of  which  has 
been  large  enough  to  hurl  me  as  far  as  the  Metro 
polis  and,  refluent,  to  sweep  me  back. 

James  Lowell  had  been  so  long  ill  that  his  death 
made  very  much  less  impression  as  a  social  loss  than 
if  it  had  occurred  earlier.  The  value  of  the  man  is 
fully  estimated  by  all  his  friends.  I  think  he  is  more 
tenderly  remembered  than  his  manly  bearing  would 
have  given  reason  to  expect. 

All  of  them  seem  to  look  back  at  him  in  his  char 
acter  of  kind  and  gentle  friend. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

September  29,  1891. 

I  arrived  in  the  Metropolis,  took  a  herdic  and  was 
so  shaken  up  that  I  ought  in  justice  to  myself  to 
take  another  day  to  entirely  realize  my  identity  or 
rather  to  fully  identify  myself  with  the  old  gent 
who  embarked  at  Cohasset.  I  think  that  if  I  were 
a  surgeon  and  had  a  patient  who  was  pretty  gen 
erally  dislocated  (i.e.  his  joints  were)  I  should  put 
him  in  a  herdic  for  a  mile  trip ;  his  bones  would  have 
to  change  their  position  entirely  and  therefore  be 
reset  at  the  end  of  his  journey. 

I  don't  dislike  it  though;  it  is  a  gymnasium  in 
which  you  are  put  through  all  possible  violent  con- 


262  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

tortions  for  twenty-five  cents,  with  no  voluntary 
exertion  on  your  own  part. 

To  Miss  GRACE  NORTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  September,  1891. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  GRACE, — 

The  first  matter  you  would  wish  to  hear  of  will 
be,  what  I  have  seen  of  J.  R.  L.  since  you  went 
away. 

He  continued,  you  know,  probably,  to  be  at 
tacked  by  one  symptom  after  another,  all  I  suppose 
coining  from  one  cause.  He  had  at  one  time,  —  it 
might  be  before  you  went,  —  a  dreadfully  hard 
cough  —  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  coughing  from 
wood  rather  than  flesh  and  blood.  This  kept  him 
awake  several  hours.  The  last  trouble  was  sciatic 
pain.  He  had  this  when  I  saw  him  last,  and  had  on 
the  day  before  lost  his  voice,  which  was  then  weak. 

This  was  on  the  tenth  of  July,  when  I  called  with 
Mr.  Bartlett.  James  was  in  his  chair,  composed 
and  uncomplaining  as  always.  On  the  14th  I  re 
ceived  a  note  from  Mr.  B.  saying  that  James  had 
had  an  attack  of  very  severe  pain,  and  that  his  situ 
ation  was  critical,  —  or  to  that  effect.  After  that  I 
saw  Mabel  once.  She  said  that  her  father  wandered 
a  good  deal  but  could  collect  his  thoughts  to  an 
swer  a  question  rationally.  From  this  to  the  end, 
the  reports  were  much  alike.  I  suppose  him  to  have 
wandered  prevailingly. 

The  most  of  cheerfulness  that  I  have  seen  in  him 


TO  MISS   GRACE  NORTON  263 

was  at  the  Whist  Club.  Here,  he  at  times  reached 
a  moderate  gaiety.  That  institution  exactly  suited 
his  fancy.  The  serious,  even  solemn  work  of  play 
ing  (at  which  he  was  very  quick  and  clear),  with  its 
interval  of  sober  conviviality,  was  a  little  play  in 
two  acts,  the  first,  with  its  kings  and  queens,  re 
minding  him  of  the  great  world  in  which  he  had 
been,  —  the  second  with  its  easy-going  good  hu 
mour,  that  he  was  at  home  and  among  old  friends. 
I  was  always  pleased  with  his  references  to  Mrs. 
Battles,  which  I  am  very  sure  he  continued  to  make 
even  in  these  later  days  at  the  whist  table. 

It  is  pleasant  to  see  so  many  testimonials  to  his 
excellent  and  charming  qualities,  come  from  all 
directions. 

His  long  illness,  which  made  him  a  secluded  in 
valid  was  a  preparation  for  his  loss.  In  looking  back 
I  recall  no  passion  or  petulance  on  his  part,  but  al 
ways  an  equable  amiability  whose  value  was  not 
diminished  by  his  entirely  manly  bearing.  It  was, 
without  detracting  from  his  natural  goodness,  a 
noble,  principled  self-restraint. 

The  numerous  evidences  of  affectionate  regard 
that  have  appeared  since  his  death  agree  with  the 
opinion  I  express. 

Undoubtedly  you  had  become  familiarized  with 
the  idea  of  his  death  some  considerable  time  since, 
or  rather,  I  presume  you  had.  I  don't  know  whether 
you  feel  his  loss  more  there  than  you  would  here, 
or  not. 


264  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  WALDO  HIGGINSON 

November  4,  1891. 

...  I  looked  in  the  Transcript  for  the  Abbot l 
article  which  Miss  Anna  mentioned.  It  is  indeed 
very  spicy  —  ginger,  hot  in  the  mouth,  largely  in 
fused.  I  think  it  will  be  a  difficult  indictment  to 
support.  If  Professor  Royce  said  that  he  stole  his 
idea  from  another,  in  so  many  words,  there  would 
be  a  flavor  of  larceny,  but  if  Mr.  Abbot  made  off 
unconsciously  with  an  essential  idea,  as  when  one 
goes  innocently  home  under  another  man's  hat, 
and  Professor  Royce  tells  him,  "Sir,  you  have  an 
other  man's  hat  on,"  I  fear  the  Faculty  will  not 
give  him  the  desired  correction. 

Doctor  Royce  is  so  sedentary,  that  a  little  visit 
to  H.  of  C.2  and  exercise  on  the  tread-wheel  might 
do  him  good,  and  it  would  certainly  give  pleasure 
to  Mr.  A.,  while  the  damage  to  character  would  be 
small  as  the  "literary  fellers"  have  so  much  spur 
ring  of  that  sort.  I  leave  it  to  you  to  decide  what  is 
deniable  in  the  case  and  shall  value  your  opinion  if 
you  will  send  it  some  time  by  Miss  Anna  (by  letter). 

I  shall  try  to  ascertain  Cambridge  public  opinion, 
and  send  you  word  of  it.  The  matter  seems  to  me 
so  new  and  strange  that  I  imagine  our  good  folks  to 
be  more  stupefied  than  anything  else. 

As  to  advice,  —  my  motto  is,  "Give  and  take." 

1  Francis  Ellingwood  Abbot,  1836-1903,  Harvard  A.B.  1859,  had 
recently  published  a  philosophical  work,  the  originality  of  which 
Professor  Josiah  Royce  impugned  severely. 

2  House  of  Correction. 


TO   MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  265 

One  party,  the  giver,  is  sure  to  feel  self-complacent 
and  the  other  is  indifferent. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

December  10,  1891. 

...  On  Tuesday  at  or  about  9  o'clock  I  went 
with  my  neighbor  Mr.  Garret  to  the  polls  and  voted 
"no  license"  and  a  variety  of  other  alternatives  in 
the  Australian  manner.  This  ballot  may  be  con 
sidered  a  kangaroo  leap  in  political  progress.  You 
go  into  a  little  stall  and  prepare  your  little  fraction 
of  the  peoples'  will  for  publication  in  serene  quiet. 
You  then  appear  before  a  little  mill;  your  name  is 
sonorously  proclaimed,  you  present  your  ballot  at 
an  aperture  and  it  is  ground  in,  and  you  march  out 
on  the  line  by  which  you  entered,  —  that  is,  a  con 
tinuation  of  that  line,  for  you  may  not  retrace  your 
steps.  You  have  now  executed  your  fraction  of 
sovereign  power  and  you  may  wear  on  your  hat  if 
you  wish:  "Here  goes  the  6,000th  part  of  a  King." 
There  is  no  law  against  such  a  proceeding. 

For  my  part  I  felt  such  elasticity  after  wielding 
my  portion  of  sovereignty,  that  I  went  home  by 
Garden  Street  via  Brattle  Street,  though  the  greater 
distance. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  January  22,  1892. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  ANNA,  — 

I  have  your  kind  card  before  me  and  the  Littell, 
newly  arrived,  lying  tranquil  in  his  bonds  with  an 


266  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

expression  on  his  surface  that  seems  to  say,  "Read 
Marbot!"  To  which  I  answer,  "Yes  my  dear,  but 
by  daylight!" 

I  then  release  him  from  his  swathing  and  he  looks 
grateful  and  seems  to  say,  "Thank  you,  Good  Sir! 
It  is  pleasant  to  stretch.  This  travelling  by  mail  is 
very  cramped  —  and  such  company!  I  lay  cheek 
by  jowl  with  an  Ayer's  Pill  pamphlet.  I  have  a 
drugged  sort  of  feeling  even  yet,  tho'  the  air  in  your 
Appian  Way  seems  very  pure. 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Higginson  say  that  you  would  ap 
preciate  me,  and  Miss  Anna  said,  'Yes'!  If  this  is 
complimentary  to  me,  it  is  also  the  same  to  you, 
for  my  'Marbot'  is  a  very  superior  affair  even  in 
our  high  grade  of  selections.  We  are  very  select. 
Indeed  as  my  friend  Littell  says  in  his  pleasant 
way,  'We  are  nothing  if  not  select.' 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  jealousy  among  the 
articles  which  I,  as  a  Number,  have  nothing  to  do 
with.  If  I  hear  any  wr anglings  I  shut  my  covers 
down  as  close  as  their  elasticity  will  allow.  But  you 
must  excuse  me  for  running  on  so,  but  the  light  and 
the  warm  air  and  the  sense  of  enlargement  after 
that  horrid  leather  pouch  gave  me  an  irresistible 
impulse.  I  am  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance  I 
I  shall  be  happy  to  form  a  part  of  your  library." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  I  answered  in  a  fatherly 
way.  "I  am  obliged  to  my  friend  Mr.  Higginson 
for  his  kind  remembrance  and  to  Miss  Anna  for  an 
nouncing  it  so  pleasantly  to  me." 


TO   MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  267 

"Oh!"  interrupted  No.  2482,  "I  have  a  great 
value  for  them  both,  and  as  a  literary  member  of 
the  family  I  have  become  quite  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  them." 

"Have  you,"  said  I,  "heard  Mr.  Higginson  say 
anything  about  the  Divinity  School  lately?" 

"Why,"  said  2482,  "I  thought  his  mind  was  on 
that  topic  once  when  he  spoke  to  himself." 

"What  did  he  say?"  I  asked. 

"He  said  that  he  feared  his  deputy  out  there 
carried  liberality  too  near  indifference  and  was 
making  wild  work,  —  but  I  am  not  sure  that  he 
was  alluding  to  the  School." 

"Well  now,  24,"  I  said,  "you  had  better  take 
some  rest  after  your  journey  from  the  Metrop 
olis." 

"Good  Night,"  he  said;  "but  let  me  just  tell  you 
that  Miss  Anna  read  my  'Marbot'  all  through  to 
Mr.  Higginson." 

"Is  n't  she  a  Reader?" 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  9,  1892. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  ANNA,  — 

I  suppose  Waldo  will  want  an  exact  account  of 
the  School  (great  responsibility  as  it  is  to  me.) 
While  the  athletic  games  continued,  there  was  a 
good  degree  of  sober  industry,  directed  to  the  steady 
acquisition  of  knowledge  —  but  when  they  went 
into  winter  quarters  doctrinal  eccentricities  and 


268  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

animosities  developed,  which  allowed  only  a  gov 
ernment  of  compromise  and  conciliation. 

The  professors  have  to  use  the  utmost  caution 
in  their  lectures  not  to  speak  too  hardly  of  any 
heretics  whose  doctrines  may  have  been  partially 
adopted  by  some  of  the  students.  Violent  language 
and  even  missiles  have  made  prudence  familiar  to 
the  teachers.  In  speaking  of  any  teacher  of  false 
doctrine  they  enlarge  as  much  as  possible  on  his 
natural  good  qualities  and  apologize  for  his  errors. 
For  instance,  the  Ophules.  "This  deluded  (as  is 
now  by  most  considered)  but  entirely  respectable 
class  adopted  a  belief  which  made  them  the  ap 
parent  worshippers  of  the  serpent.  This  we  do  not 
assert  to  be  the  truth,  but  there  was  some  appar 
ent  ground  for  the  statement.  Take  the  Mani- 
cheans.  These  sectaries  arose  from  a  respectable 
source,  though  they  have  been  considered  to  in 
dulge  in  wild  reveries  and  unintelligible  schemes  of 
creation  and  providence.  Manes  might  perhaps 
by  the  voice  of  candor  be  pronounced  only  a  rather 
too  advanced  man  for  his  time,  i.e.,  in  boldness  of 
thought  and  of  speech." 

Of  Tom  Paine  the  professor  says  in  his  desk: 
"Mr.  Thomas  Paine  chose  an  eccentric  path  of  in 
credulity  which  caused  deep  regret  to  those  who 
could  not  follow  him  in  his  ideas  and  may  be  con 
sidered  perhaps  (by  those  who  differ  from  him) 
(though  himself  supported  by  a  very  considerable 
number  of  respectable  citizens)  as  more  ingenious 


TO    MISS    M.   L.   WARE  269 

than  prudent."  Voltaire:  "A  man  of  excellent 
ability  but  considered  by  judicious  men  to  have 
perverted  his  powers  to  the  propagation  of  skep 
ticism  and  (as  some  assert)  of  infidelity."  Simon 
Magus:  "Although  classed  among  the  dubious 
claimants  of  the  title  of  Christian,  his  error  was 
perhaps  not  unnatural  to  a  disciple  newly  emerged 
from  paganism,  in  assigning  a  pecuniary  and  com 
mercial  value  to  spiritual  gifts.  Such  is  the  state 
of  the  school." 

This  to  Waldo.  I  have  often  heard  them  say 
"  If  we  only  had  our  old  Overseer  here !  He  was  the 
fellow!  He'd  pluck  you  up  a  heresy  as  if  it  was 
chickweed,  in  a  second,  and  yet  none  of  us  got  out 
with  him." 

"I  remember  when  I  had  a  turn  to  the  Gnostic 
heresy,"  says  one  to  me,  —  "he  cured  me  of  it  in 
no  time.  He  had  the  Doctor  to  me  and  got  me  put 
on  diet  —  and  had  ice  put  on  my  neck  and  a  mus 
tard  poultice  on  both  arms.  Peters,  too,  was  a  vio 
lent  Hopkinsian.  He  put  him  on  regulations  of  one 
sort  and  another  and  he  was  well  in  a  week." 

So  you  see  how  much  I  need  you  to  take  my  place. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  15,  1892. 
(Please  burn  this  when  read) 
MY  DEAR  BENEFACTRESS, — 

Don't  you  (go  an')  think  me  ungrateful  because 
you  have  not  heard  anything  from  me  all  this 


270  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

time.  Gratitude  doesn't  evaporate  because  it  isn't 
expressed. 

And  now  that  I  have  the  conductor  in  my  hand 
we  will  see  if  there  is  not  some  gratitude  on  tap  (if 
I  may  use  that  expression  to  a  young  lady). 

Mary  Ware!  It  was  beautifully  done  of  you  to 
look  after  that  old  man  and  see  him,  so  far  as  you 
could,  safe  on  his  way.  I  suppose  it  really  seemed  a 
prudent  thing  to  you,  and  I  suppose  was  prudent, 
but  it  is  very  hard  for  an  old  gent  to  fully  realize  it. 

Black  ran  the  tide  in  the  river  below; 
The  old  man  rose  and  said,  "  I  must  go, 
Home  must  I  go  by  the  slow-rolling  car 
Though  the  night  is  cold  and  the  journey  far." 

The  fair  damsel  laughed,  and  she  said,  "  0,  Nay, 
If  thou  goest  at  all  it  shall  be  in  my  way; 
And  a  vow  I  have  made  to  the  blessed  St.  Roche, 
Thou  only  shalt  go  in  a  Boston  coach." 

The  poem  goes  on  to  tell  how  the  old  man  got 
out,  and  after  a  little  waiting  entered  a  car,  rode 
to  Cambridge,  and  walked  up  from  the  Square  and 
found  it  cold  as  Greenland,  and  had  visions  of  a 
coroner's  jury  sitting  all  comfortably  upon  him. 
The  last  two  lines  are:  — 

The  old  gent  crept  slowly  to  No.  5, 

Saying,  "Bless  Mary  Ware  that  I  am  alive." 

It  has  given  me  a  deal  of  trouble  to  make  up  even 
this  outline  of  a  narrative  from  the  poem  with  such 
very  large  omissions,  but  I  wished  you  to  see  some 
thing  like  historical  evidence  of  my  gratitude, 


TO    MISS   ANNA   HIGGINSON  271 

which  is  shown  by  the  unknown  writer  in  the  ex 
clamation  in  the  last  line.  .  .  . 

I  have  not  a  particle  of  village  news  to  tell  you, 
I  am  out  of  the  range  of  it.  My  field  of  vision  is 
Appian  Way,  which  is  a  very  tranquil  thorough 
fare  most  of  the  time.  .  .  .  Please  remember  me  to 
your  mama  and  allow  me  to  sign  myself 

Your  old  friend. 

P.S.  Rose  (the  Cat)  would  be  happy  to  see  any 
of  your  cat's  young  friends,  or  herself,  if  she  does 
not  fear  the  grippe,  out  here,  to  tea.  Rose  must 
have  heard  me  repeat  the  foregoing  invitation  to 
myself,  for  she  tells  me  in  her  language  that  that  is 
no  sort  of  an  invitation,  and  suggests  as  follows  — 
"Miss  Rose,  the  Established  Cat  at  No.  5  Appian 
Way,  would  be  happy  to  see  her  friend,  the  Estab 
lished  Cat  at  No.  —  Brimmer  Street,  to  tea  any 
afternoon,  or  any  of  her  young  friends  who  would 
like  to  vary  metropolitan  life  by  a  short  stay  in  the 
suburbs.  ROSE." 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  22,  1892. 

Tell  Waldo  that  the  School  is  all  right.  One  of 
the  pupils,  or  rather  scholars,  is  desirous  to  join  a 
circus  this  summer  to  help  pay  his  expenses.  I  have 
referred  him  to  Waldo.  I  should  say  it  was  going  a 
little  too  far. 

Commencement  is  at  hand,  both  of  College  and 
Annex,  and  their  only  effect  on  me  is  to  turn  my 


272  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

mind  back  to  the  old  genuine  Commencement.  Do 
encourage  Waldo  to  reminisce  in  like  manner,  and 
if  he  will  to  indulge  his  fancy  with  a  boyish  repast 
of  that  period. 

Bill  of  Fare 

Watermelon  —  peach  —  peach  —  watermelon  — 
plums,  if  attainable  —  ice  cream,  if  financially  pos 
sible  —  watermelon  —  spruce  beer  —  peaches  — 
watermelon  —  spruce  beer. 

To  Miss  ANNA  HIGGINSON 

CAMBRIDGE,  September  30, 1892. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  ANNA,  - 

You  recollect  the  publisher  with  the  hysteric 
poor  author  —  "But  my  dear  young  man!  But 
my  dear  young  man!" 

So  I  to  you.  But  my  dear  Miss  Anna!  But  my 
dear  Miss  Anna! 

As  if  I  were  not  already  enough  possessed  with 
the  spirit  of  free  travel,  free  board  and  free  quarters, 
you  have  now  done  your  best  to  aggravate  my  ap 
petite  for  all  those  luxuries. 

I  shall  now  enquire  of  the  conductor,  whether  Mr. 
Higginson,  to  his  knowledge,  has  friends  resident 
on  the  route  to  Cohasset  —  and  if  so  who  they  are, 
and  where  they  dwell  —  and  on  the  strength  of  the 
extremely  robust  invitation  I  have  received  shall 
feel  it  my  duty  to  call  —  introduce  myself  —  and 
(if  received  with  the  cordiality  that  I  expect)  to 
stay  a  day  or  two  with  each  of  them.  For  this  pur- 


TO   MISS   ANNA  HIGGINSON  273 

pose  (if  executed)  I  shall  purchase  a  new  dilatory 
ticket,  reserving  Waldo's  for  the  return. 

I  have  got  my  head  so  full  of  this  generous  and 
noble  idea  (proper  only  of  course  to  those  who  keep 
house)  that  I  should  hardly  dare  trust  myself  on 
the  road  just  now.  I  fear  that  if  I  fell  into  pleasant 
discourse  with  any  comfortable-looking  person  I 
should  offer  to  stop  where  he  did  and  dine  with  him. 
It  will  take  some  time  and  reflection  to  expel  this 
exaggeration  from  my  fancy.  Meanwhile  I  overrun 
with  enthusiasm  and  applause  for  Waldo's  and 
your  noble  and  sensible  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
hospitality. 

Beside  what  I  have  said  —  I  have  to  apply  the 
most  powerful  moral  leverage  before  I  can  hoist 
myself  into  the  athletic  attitude  of  a  traveller. 
"Cohasset.  A  town  situated  in  Plymouth  County, 
Massachusetts,  Longitude  —  Latitude  etc."  See 
Gazetteer. 

You  would  hardly  believe  me  if  I  told  you  that 
in  my  present  state  of  home  adhesiveness,  those 
words,  "Plymouth  County,"  have  thrown  me  into 
a  cold  perspiration. 

I  went  to  the  Metropolis  yesterday  and  am  scarce 
ly  done  glorifying  over  that  Plymouth  County! 
(There!  if  you'll  believe  me,  another  chill!) 

But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Anna,  I  will  be  "girding  up 
my  loins"  (fine  old  scripture  phrase!)  to  come  as 
first  proposed,  and  all  the  time  with  great  admira 
tion  and  gratitude  for  the  urgent  epistle. 


274  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

Now  for  our  news.  They  are  coming  back  — 
there  are  signs  of  them,  but  the  great  wave  crested 
with  trunks  and — and  —  bedsteads,  for  all  I  know, 
has  not  broken  on  us  yet. 

The  College  Cats,  i.e.,  the  Memorial  Hall  Cats, 
are  waiting  anxiously  for  the  re-opening.  I  fear 
that  they  have  had  to  live  mostly  on  reminiscences. 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

October  22,  1892. 

I  meant  to  answer  your  note  yesterday  by  ap 
pearing  in  Brookline.  I  went  in  over  the  new  bridge 
and  on  Boylston  Street  encountered  the  procession, 
which  I  managed  to  cut  across.  I  called  on  John 
Dwight  and  then  repaired  to  the  R.R.  and  found 
that  no  cars  were  running  on  Huntington  Ave.  I 
took  a  herdic  to  Tremont  House,  thinking  there 
might  be  some  car  running  thence,  but  there  was 
no  sign.  Then  I  said,  "I  will  make  for  my  native 
home."  So  with  some  pains  I  got  over  to  the  east 
erly  sidewalk,  and  very  shortly  found  myself  ar 
rested  and  vigorously  compressed  by  one  of  the 
toughest  bits  of  crowd  that  I  have  seen.  I  had  meant 
to  slip  quietly  down  School  Street  and  through  by 
the  old  Court  House,  and  here  was  I,  an  aged  gent 
from  the  rural  districts,  jammed  in  with  a  pressure 
of  about  a  ton  to  a  square  inch  —  lame  leg  and  all, 
with  nothing  but  this  restricted  privilege  with  sky 
privilege  attached,  for  that  was  the  only  free  pros 
pect.  A  few  minutes  before  I  was  a  comfortable 


TO    C.   W.   STOREY  275 

burgess  going  to  slip  down  School  Street  —  slip 
down  School  Street!  slip  down  the  Cordilleras  — 
wade  through  the  Straits  of  Magellan  and  take  a 
pleasant  stroll  to  the  end  of  Gape  Horn.  No,  Sir! 
It  was  so  that  Circumstance  answered  me.  No, 
Sir!!  Make  yourself  as  comfortable  as  the  situa 
tion  will  permit.  The  procession  must  get  through 
sometime  before  midnight.  So  I  stood  it  out  as  well 
as  might  be,  till  at  last  I  made  my  way  to  the  road 
way  and  boarded  a  wagon  with  two  Italians  in  it, 
and  paying  a  small  fee  secured  a  seat.  After  resting 
went  to  Parker's  and  got  a  pewter  and  some  bread 
and  old  cheese,  and  then  made  for  home. 

When  I  heard  the  ribs  crack  in  the  crowd  yester 
day  I  said,  "This  is  progress!  we  are  clearing  away 
the  difficulties!" 

To  C.  W.  STOREY 

January  28,  1893. 

Somehow  or  other  with  my  sparse  and  slender  so 
cial  relations  I  feel  a  very  much  occupied  man.  The 
fact  is  that,  inertia  fixed  and  solid  being  my  base 
of  operations,  I  am  a  hard-worked  man.  At  every 
move,  I  have  to  take  the  attitude  of  an  athlete, 
and  burst  the  bonds  that  have  woven  themselves 
about  me.  I  am  now  recovering  from  exhaustion 
consequent  on  a  trip  to  Newtonville.  This  was  a 
violent  shock  to  my  sense  of  cohesion  and  perma 
nence.  It  was  three  days,  at  least,  before  I  could 
identify  myself  with  the  solid,  sedate  inhabitant 


276  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

of  No.  5  A.W.  and  my  self-consciousness,  perplexed 
and  shaken,  seemed  constantly  to  ask,  "Mais  que 
diable  allait-il  faire  dans  cette  Newtonville?" 

I  went  to  a  "quartervadollar"  concert  last  night, 
and  feel  more  fashionable  today  than  you  would 
expect  from  such  a  dissipation. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  April  12,  1893. 

.  .  .  Your  Afghan  has  produced  an  extraordin 
ary  effect  on  me.  I  find  myself  (now  and  then)  ex 
periencing  an  assimilation  to  the  thoughts  and 
habits  of  the  people  whose  garb  I  have  partially 
adopted.  Having  a  vague  idea  that  they  at  a  re 
mote  period  were  forced  into  Mohammedanism,  I 
grow  warm  with  a  sense  of  their  wrongs,  and  am 
seized  with  a  desire  to  avenge  them  —  a  patriotic 
desire  I  may  call  it. 

I  find  that  the  only  way  to  allay  this  fervor  is  to 
arm  myself  (in  imagination),  to  put  on  your  pres 
ent  (over  a  complete  suit  of  armor)  and  sally  forth 
into  the  past  centuries  against  the  foe. 

You  would  be  pleased  to  see  the  heads  slip  off 
like  sliced  cucumbers  —  colossal  Paynims  "cloven 
to  the  chine."  When  my  rage  for  massacre  is 
satiated,  I  return  to  my  normal  peaceful  frame  of 
mind  —  fold  the  Afghan,  and  lay  it  aside,  until  an 
other  access  of  hostilitv  against  the  oppression  of 
my  adopted  kinsfolk. 


TO    C.   E.   NORTON  277 

To  C.  E.  NORTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  12,  1893. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  NORTON, — 

I  take  great  pleasure  in  receiving  "J.  R.  L.'s" 
letters1  from  you. 

My  thanks  may  seem  a  little  tardy,  but  they 
are  not  warmed  up!  No!  Gratitude,  working  in 
her  crypt  with  a  pleasant  smile,  has  endued  them 
with  fresh  and  unmeasured  warmth,  which  with  a 
pleasant  touch  of  the  businesslike,  "  she  warrants 
durable." 

She  says  that  she  is  pleased  to  be  again  indebted 
to  you,  and  asks  me  if  she  may  send  you  her  kindest 
regards. 

All  that  I  hear  speak  of  it  pronounce  your 
work  well  done.  I  hope  to  have  it  read  to  me  very 
soon. 

Please  not  mind  my  handwriting  —  I  can't  read 
it  myself. 

With  kind  regards  and  renewed  supplementary 

thanks, 

Yours. 

From  this  time  on  John  Holmes' s  letters,  usually 
written  by  an  amanuensis,  are  few,  but  they  still 
have  up  to  the  last  his  characteristic  touch. 

1  Letters  of  James  Russell  Lowell,  edited  by  Charles  Eliot  Norton. 
2  vols.  New  York:  Harper  &  Bro.,  1894. 


278  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  11,  1893. 

.  .  .  Have  no  doubts  about  the  fit,  the  color,  the 
texture  or  the  ornamentation  of  your  coat.  Public 
opinion  declares  emphatically  in  favor  of  all.  I  am 
considered  in  Appian  Way  to  be  in  the  foremost 
rank  of  the  beau  monde  and  representative  of  the 
haul  ton. 

The  lace  on  my  coat  meets  my  eye  and  gives  a 
pleasant  suggestion  of  a  comeliness  due  to  friendly 
effort  in  my  behalf.  —  What  were  man,  did  not 
Woman  take  him? 

I  am  raised  in  a  moment  from  economical  medio 
crity  to  —  splendor,  shall  I  say?  Yes,  splendor!  — 
as  measured  by  that  public  opinion  to  which 
I  am  ever  loyal  —  the  public  opinion  of  Appian 
Way. 

To  C.  E.  NORTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  9,  1894. 

A  short  time  since,  an  interviewer  gave  to 
the  newspapers  some  remarks  with  regard  to  my 
father,  —  and,  I  am  sure  without  your  consent. 
This  is  my  fixed  belief,  and  I  wish  no  confirma 
tion  —  much  less  dissent.  My  belief  is  in  the  na 
ture  of  a  "Resolved,"  and  settles  the  question  for 
me. 

If  I  had  casually  overheard  these  remarks  with 
out  your  knowledge,  they  would  by  no  means  have 


TO    C.   E.   NORTON  279 

caused  the  surprise  and  filial  horror  that  might 
perhaps  have  been  expected. 

They  are  such  as  any  "liberal"  would  make  with 
regard  to  the  generality  of  "Orthodox"  ministers 
and  sermons  of  my  father's  or  any  other  precedent 
New  England  period.  The  sermons  of  my  father's 
time  were  in  the  traditional  form  handed  down 
from  the  early  Puritans  and  designed  only  for  Gal- 
vinistic  believers.  To  others  they  must  have  been 
dry  as  the  sand  of  the  desert  at  midday.  Any 
preacher  who  strayed  out  from  the  Calvinistic 
fortification  to  gather  pictorial  stimulants  to  piety 
from  earth  and  nature,  which,  overlaid  with  a  pious 
varnish,  he  might  present  to  his  hearers,  would  have 
been  frowned  on  and  snubbed  for  his  pains,  and 
warned  to  attend  only  to  vital  piety  and  the  saving 
of  souls. 

Almost  the  only  eloquence  open  to  the  minister 
was  that  of  the  tocsin  and  fire-alarm,  which  brought 
twenty  thousand  people  to  hear  Whitefield  on  Bos 
ton  Common. 

Dante  should  have  a  place  for  the  "interviewer" 
—  let  us  say  a  reporter's  box,  floored  with  a 
steady  half-frozen  vitality  —  a  distant  view  of 
pardon  —  a  stern  keeper  holding  a  golden  ticket 
ready  for  him  so  soon  as  he  completes  a  page 
of  reported  matter,  while  all  sorts  of  the  most 
pernicious  and  attractive  rumors  rush  by  his 
ear,  leaving  an  impression  just  this  side  of  com 
pleteness,  and  baffle  his  skill  —  with  snatches  of 


280  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

music  from  celestial  fields  to  aggravate  his  situa 
tion. 

I  shall  keep  my  fond  recollection  of  you  at  my 
mother's  funeral,  and  since,  intact,  and  am 

Your  old  friend 

JOHN  HOLMES. 

I  find  it  very  hard  to  write,  for  I  cannot  read 
what  I  have  written. 

I  should  like  a  postal  card  from  you  with  "Re 
ceived  —  All  right!"  upon  it. 

To  Miss  M.  L.  WARE 

April  29,  1895. 

...  I  have  been  to  Provincetown  (on  the  18th  by 
boat)  and  returned  on  the  19th,  with  Professor 
Thayer  of  the  Law  School,  a  most  agreeable  man 
—  that  being  the  purpose  for  which  I  went. 

We  go  by  sea  and  go  by  land. 

In  Provincetown,  they  go  by  sand. 

For  surely  you  don't  consider  sand  as  land  when  I 
saw  there  the  tips  of  trees  just  emerging  from  the 
sandy  billows  that  had  drowned  them. 

Contrary  to  my  expectation  I  found  P.  a  very 
neat  town  —  painted  and  neatly  fenced  when  there 
was  spare  loom,  up  to  the  beau  ideal  of  a  well- 
kept  New  England  town.  Here,  I  suppose,  is  about 
the  place  for  a  philosophical  reflection  —  but  I 
can't  think  of  anything  as  expressive. 


TO   MRS.    GEORGE   P.   LAWRENCE        281 

Perhaps  we  may  say  that  it  ought  to  be  an  emi 
nently  social  place.  In  the  town  they  have  plank 
sidewalks  and  can  circulate  easily  --  all  outside  is 
over  shoes  in  sand  and  there  is  no  particular  place 
to  go  to,  that  I  am  aware  of.  They  have  all  scenic 
properties  of  ocean,  the  roar,  the  swash,  the  howl, 
the  whistle,  the  scream  of  the  tempest  without 
stirring  from  their  firesides,  where  they  have  the 
domestic  thunder  of  the  chimney  and  the  sputtering 
of  the  wreck-wood. 

Outside  in  a  gale  they  say  the  driving  sand  is 
intolerable  -  -  that  it  scratches  the  spectacles  of 
those  who  wear  such  armor. 

Thus  I  have  tried  to  fortify  my  "  philosophical 
reflection." 

To  MRS.  GEORGE  P.  LAWRENCE 

5  APPIAN  WAY,  November  13,  1895. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  LAWRENCE,  - 

Your  "cottage  cheese"  is  a  very  pleasant  article, 
as  it  has  shown  by  throwing  me  into  a  kind  of  agri 
cultural  ecstasy  in  which  I  fancied  I  was  the  owner 
of  a  comfortable  farm,  and  a  lowly  cot,  with  half  a 
dozen  cows  and  cutting  twenty  tons  of  hay  yearly. 
I  was  just  on  the  point  of  going  to  Boston  to  pur 
chase  salt  for  my  stock  when  I  awoke  from  my 
vision.  I  write  you  because  no  evidence  of  gratitude 
was  forwarded  to  you  last  evening.  Please  accept 
my  thanks. 

Very  truly  yours. 


282  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

To  Miss  GRACE  NORTON 

January  9,  1897. 

Christmas  is  a  benevolent  Blizzard.  It  drives 
people  with  warm  hearts,  distracted  heads,  and 
perturbed  countenance,  in  all  directions.  It  blows 
from  due  South  (no  East  in  it)  and  has  a  peculiar 
softness  that  disguises  its  force.  It  has  the  prop 
erty  of  shedding  an  inward  light  which  gives  a 
pleasant  mental  coloring  and  causes  people  whose 
benevolence  of  [illegible]  overflow  to  go  about  wish 
ing  people  Merry  Christmas  with  a  severe  con 
strained  expression.  Most  people,  though,  are  illu 
minated  by  it. 

Christmas  is  a  season  of  perplexed  uneasy  happi 
ness,  but  it  has  the  equality  to  give  a  jocund  form 
to  things  and  to  make  people  in  a  certain  degree 
enjoy  their  unhappiness,  and  publish  their  miseries 
with  an  air  of  self-satisfaction. 

The  Blizzard  part  of  Christmas  has  the  curious 
power  of  being  attracted  by  pecuniary  value,  it  will 
turn  a  hundred  purses  inside  out  in  a  second  without 
the  least  degree  of  perceptive  violence.  .  .  . 

Meanwhile  nearly  four  fifths  of  a  century  look 
down  upon  you  pleasantly  for  your  kindness  to  an 
"old  gent." 

Note.  The  term  "old  gent"  bears  the  same  rela 
tion  to  the  full  length  expression  that  the  "cut 
away"  coat  does  to  the  longer,  broad-skirted  arti 
cle.  And — old  gents  wear  "cut-aways"  nowadays. 


TO    C.    E.    NORTON  283 

To  C.  E.  NORTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  24,  1897. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  NORTON,  - 

After  getting  your  pamphlet  read  to  me,  in  two 
parts,  the  first  by  a  friend  whom  I  did  not  wish  to 
detain,  the  remainder  by  Mr.  Boott,  I  wrote  on  it 
"a  model  Memoir."1 

This  great  "Imprimatur"  I  hope  you  will  ap 
prove  of. 

You  have  performed  your  friendly  office  admir 
ably,  and  I  hope  that  you  enjoy  an  honest  self -ap 
proval  equivalent  to  the  labor  it  must  have  cost  you. 

I  have  been  slow  in  acknowledging  your  atten 
tion,  but  certainly  have  not  been  diverted  from 
my  purpose  by  any  gaieties,  for  I  don't  consider 
sciatica-lameness  as  coming  under  that  head. 

With  thanks  and  kindest  regards, 

I  am  yours. 

P.S.  I  can't  read  my  letters  you  know  —  and  my 
"helper"  is  of  course  on  vacation,  like  all  the  rest 
of  the  [world?]  so  I  have  to  send  all  the  very  possi 
ble  blunders.  ...  I  ought  to  say  that  I  valued  Pro 
fessor  Child  as  highly  as  anybody  but  necessarily 
had  to  borrow  to  a  certain  extent  from  others' 
opinions,  as  I  knew  him  personally  so  little. 

1  Memoir  of  Francis  J.  Child,  From  the  Proceedings  of  the  Amer 
ican  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  vol.  xxxn;  reprinted  with  addi 
tions  in  the  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  December,  1897. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CONCLUSION 

LIKE  many  another  life-long  invalid,  John 
Holmes  possessed  a  singular  vital  tenacity.  He 
outlived  his  more  active  brother  Wendell  by  more 
than  four  years,  and  when  he  died,  on  January  27, 
1899,  of  his  old  cronies  only  John  Bartlett  survived. 
But  he  was  cared  for  in  his  last  days  by  friends  of  a 
younger  generation. 

One  of  these  friends  was  a  neighbor,  Mr.  George 
P.  Lawrence,  whose  daughter  writes:  - 

"I  think  that  Mr.  Holmes  had  a  horror  of  old 
age,  especially  the  great  loneliness  of  the  time 
when '  the  milestones  into  headstones  change,  'neath 
every  one  a  friend.'  I  can  remember  how  much  he 
missed  that  poet,  for  he  used  to  tell  my  mother  that 
hers  was  the  best  '  mayonnaise '  he  had  eaten  since 
Jimmy  Lowell  was  there  to  make  it  for  him.  One 
of  my  father's  dearest  possessions  was  a  volume  of 
'Hearts'  Ease  and  Rue,'  given  Mr.  Holmes  by  the 
author,  on  the  title  page  of  which  is  written :  - 

Much  hearts'  ease  have  I  found  in  you, 
But  never  any  root  of  rue. 

"Books  of  many  sorts  Mr.  Holmes  loved.  My 
father  used  to  go  and  read  with  him  several  eve 
nings  a  week,  for  in  those  days  his  eyesight  was 
beginning  to  fail  and  his  only  resource  was  his 


CONCLUSION  285 

beloved  Homer,  which  he  repeated  aloud  in  the  on 
coming  darkness.  When  my  father  came  they  had 
one  amusing  little  ceremony  that  I  remember.  My 
father  would  ring  twice  very  slowly.  Mr.  Holmes 
would  open  the  door  a  crack  and  demand  'the 
counter-sign.'  It  would  be  given,  some  quotation 
from  a  French  history  that  they  were  reading  at 
the  time.  Then,  and  then  only,  was  admittance 
gained. 

"On  one  memorable  evening  the  door-bell  was 
pulled  the  requisite  number  of  times.  The  door  was 
soon  opened  a  fraction  and  a  ferocious  voice  de 
manded,  'The  counter-sign!'  No  answer.  Mr. 
Holmes  tried  again  and  louder: '  The  counter-sign!' 

"From  the  foot  of  the  steps,  out  of  the  darkness 
of  Appian  Way,  a  voice  with  the  unmistakable  ac 
cent  of  Erin  quavered  back,  'Excuse  me,  sor,  but 
is  this  Miss  Fogarty's  Employment  Office,  sor?' 

"The  next  night  there  was  only  one  ring  at  the 
required  time,  but  Mr.  Holmes  came  down  him 
self,  —  Miss  Tolman  went  to  rest  with  the  birds, 
—  and  opened  the  door.  'What  can  I  do  for  you? 
I  cannot  quite  see.' 

"A  faint  gas-light  on  the  corner  of  Brattle  Street 
dimly  outlined  a  figure  in  a  long  coat.  '  Is  this  Miss 
Fogarty's  Employment  Office,  sor?'  Then  Mr. 
Holmes' s  shout  could  be  heard  the  length  of  the 
street.  'Lawrence,  you  rascal,  come  in  here  this 
instant.'  So  my  father  went  upstairs  and  both  were 
soon  comfortable  before  the  charcoal  fire. 


286  LETTERS   OF  JOHN   HOLMES 

"They  read  poetry,  history,  essays,  or  adven 
ture.  Though  very  fond  of  a  tale  of  romance,  Mr. 
Holmes  could  never  endure  lengthy  descriptions. 
On  one  occasion  the  author  ran  on  for  some  pages 
along  a  lane  bordered  with  autumn  flowers.  When 
he  could  bear  it  no  longer  Mr.  Holmes  protested, 
'0  [Brother  Lawrence,  Brother  Lawrence,  cut  out 
the  goldenrodP  Thenceforth  'goldenrod'  came  to 
be  a  synonym  with  us  for  'flowery  language.' 

"In  his  last  years  he  grew  quite  blind  and  with 
drew  closer  into  himself.  His  faithful  old  house 
keeper,  Miss  Maria  Tolman,  who  had  promised  his 
mother  never  to  leave  him,  was  dead.  The  man  who 
looked  after  his  wants  used  to  take  him  out  to  the 
Common  and  leave  him  there  on  a  bench,  much  to 
my  mother's  distress  when  the  weather  was  bleak. 
She  would  send  me  out  to  bring  him  home.  But 
because  I  was  such  small  fry,  he  always  insisted  on 
coming  home  with  me.  There  he  would  upbraid  my 
mother  for  allowing  'that  child  to  go  out  there 
alone,'  while  we  would  look  at  each  other,  she  with 
a  sad  little  smile,  and  I  with  a  vast,  proud  one,  at 
the  success  of  our  plot;  for  from  Mason  Street  to 
Appian  Way  there  were  no  street-crossings  and  Mr. 
Holmes  would  go  straight  and  safely  home. 

"His  last  Christmas  day,  a  short  time  before  his 
death,  he  spent  with  us,  as  usual,  for  his  blindness 
made  dining  out  among  strangers  difficult.  He  was 
very  joyous  because  the  doctor  had  said  he  might 
eat  anything  he  liked,  even  to  plum  pudding.  But 


CONCLUSION  287 

we  knew  the  meaning  of  the  words  that  'nothing 
would  hurt  him  now,'  and  our  hearts  were  heavy. 
I  remember  that  dinner  far  better,  his  enjoyment 
in  everything,  so  contagious  that  we  were  all  merry, 
whatever  lay  beneath.  The  next  day  he  came  round 
with  his  usual  Christmas  box  of  candy  which  he 
had  left  behind  the  day  before.  I  opened  the  door 
when  I  saw  him  coming  and  was  instructed  to  give 
the  package  to  my  mother.  I  begged  him  to  come 
in,  but  he  would  not.  He  had  another  box  to  de 
liver.  A  moment  he  rested  on  the  stone  slab  at  the 
side  of  the  steps,  then  got  up  heavily,  —  I  longed 
to  help  him  but  dared  not,  —  and  started  down 
James  Street  with  a  rather  tired  little  smile.  I 
stood  watching  him  go,  shivering  in  the  blast  that 
swept  up  Brattle  Street.  I  never  saw  him  again! 
"Here  are  the  only  verses  by  Mr.  Holmes  which 
have  been  saved,  so  far  as  I  know,  but  there  must 
have  been  others.  He  was  always  so  modest  that 
one  could  only  discover  his  writing  by  accident. 
The  following  sonnet  to  an  old  hen  was  jotted  down 
by  old  Mrs.  Edward  B.  Hall,  as  she  and  Mr. 
Holmes  watched  the  hens  and  chickens  in  the 
dooryard  of  an  old  farm  at  West  Rindge. 

SONNET  TO  AN  OLD  HEN 

Unintellectual  bunch  of  feathers  and  of  bones, 
Clumsy  of  gait  and  squawking  in  thy  tones, 
Thinkst  thou  these  little  failings  I'd  abuse 
Or  to  thy  many  virtues  praise  refuse? 


288  LETTERS   OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

A  plaintive  chick,  divorced  from  mother's  care, 
I  see  thee,  patient,  earn  thy  daily  fare, 
And  older  grown,  set  careful  day  and  night, 
Until  thy  numerous  offspring  break  to  light; 
Then,  pattern  mother,  scour  the  teeming  fields 
For  all  which  Nature  to  her  fledgling  yields. 
Love,  patience,  energy,  unfailing  thrift, 
How  many  bipeds  boast  all  these  their  gift? 
I  dare  not  further  go,  respected  hen, 
Each  step  I  take  casts  new  reproach  on  men. 

Other  fragments  of  Mr.  Holmes's  versifying 
have  come  to  light,  and  I  print  them,  not  so  much 
because  of  their  poetical  value,  as  because  of  their 
characteristic  expression  of  his  own  sweet  and 
humor-loving  nature. 

These  lines,  called  "  In  Memoriam,"  were  written 
to  four  old  friends. 

IN  MEMORIAM 

In  the  pale  throng  that  waits  on  Lethe's  wharf 
The  outward  tide  that  is  to  set  them  off, 
Lately,  at  times  not  far  apart,  were  four 
For  whom  we  carve  this  tablet  on  the  shore. 

J.  S.  DWIGHT 

Thou,  J.,  in  age  the  first,  music  subdued 
And  to  thee  taught  her  every  turn  and  mood. 
Some  "accidental"  marred  life's  rhythm  in  thee, 
And  death  resolved  it  into  harmony. 
Pure  soul!  Where'er  it  is  that  thou  hast  come, 
Thou  with  the  Masters  old  hast  found  thy  home. 

WALDO  HIGGINSON 

Thou,  W.,  comest  next  —  a  man  complete. 
Duties,  allurements,  dangers  strong  to  meet. 


CONCLUSION  289 

Wise  counsellor,  thou,  and  ever  faithful  friend, 
Aye  prompt  the  weak  a  helping  hand  to  lend. 
When  illness  laid  his  heavy  bonds  on  thee, 
That  thou  might'st  ne'er  again  know  liberty, 
There  was  no  weakness,  no  distressed  complaint 
To  show  that  the  strong  heart  was  growing  faint. 
So  crept  until  the  last  each  lingering  day, 
Till  calm,  as  one  asleep,  he  passed  away. 

H.  W.  TORREY 

And  next  comes  H.,  with  talent  bright  endued, 
Who  like  a  child  among  dull  Freshmen  stood, 
And  calmly  went  upon  his  studious  way, 
Till  tall,  grave  Seniors  came  beneath  his  sway. 
At  last,  content  with  his  collegiate  fame, 
On  Harvard's  rolls  he  left  an  honored  name. 

CHARLES  STOREY 

And  last,  Oh,  C.,  we  call  thee  back  to  view,  — 

Quick  brain,  large  heart!  in  all  things  frank  and  true; 

Ardent  as  ever  was  unchristened  Turk, 

Thy  pen  thou  sharpenest  for  unfinished  work. 

That  done,  thou  gladly  soughtst  the  social  ray 

That  throws  its  cheer  on  man's  laborious  day. 

Then,  from  thy  ample  treasury,  wouldst  thou  pour 

Thy  never-dwindling  stock  of  social  lore, 

And  keep  the  festal  spirits  in  a  glow, 

Nor  seem  to  know  that  thou  wast  doing  so, 

Till  grave  old  Time  was  filled  with  such  delight, 

Himself  scarce  knew  the  hour  of  day  or  night. 

Thine  illustrations  apt  and  comments  shrewd 

The  lagging  conversation  still  renewed; 

No  circle  of  thy  friends  was  e'er  complete 

So  long  as  thine  remained  an  empty  seat. 

The  well-worn  vestment  given  you  at  birth 

Is  taken  back  again  by  Mother  Earth. 

You !  When  we  ask  or  what  you  are,  or  where, 

Our  only  answer  is  the  empty  air. 


290  LETTERS  OF  JOHN  HOLMES 

So  goes  the  world  along  with  ready  tread. 
And  makes  its  note,  and  leaves  behind  its  dead; 
And  in  the  grave's  repose  at  last  we  see, 
A  tranquil  undisturbed  indemnity. 

So  ended  a  most  unusual  life.  In  spite  of  a  seri 
ous  handicap,  John  Holmes  expressed  himself  as 
fully  as  did  his  more  fortunate  and  applauded 
brother.  But  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  the 
gift  of  humor,  and  the  delightful  whimsicality  which 
were  so  strangely  and  finely  mingled  in  him,  giving 
him  a  unique  place  in  the  hearts  of  his  friends 
to  whom  he  revealed  himself,  would  have  been 
lost  to  the  world  but  for  this  legacy  of  his  letters. 
He  wrote  them  without  the  faintest  thought  that 
they  would  ever  be  printed,  for  he  was  the  most 
genuinely  modest  and  self-distrustful  of  men,  and 
most  faithfully  do  these  letters  represent  him. 
Lowell  said,  "Wendell  markets  all  his  goods,  John 
gives  his  to  his  friends." 


THE   END 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
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Letters  of  John  Holmes  A4 
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